In Your Arms
by Piper Elizabeth
Summary: After the prison falls, Beth and Daryl are on their own. When they find the funeral home, they think they have found a safe haven. But then Beth is taken and Daryl will do anything to find her. But will he be able to help her after the trauma she's been through? Will they ever be able to find their way into each other's arms?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** In Your Arms

**Rating:** M for some language, violence, and normal adult behavior (no lemons, though!)

**Disclaimer:** The Walking Dead and its affiliated characters do not belong to me. I mean no copyright infringement. I only use them as a means to de-stress myself.

**Summary:** After the prison falls, Beth and Daryl are on their own. When they find the funeral home, they think they have found a safe haven. After Beth is taken, Daryl will do anything to find her. But will he be able to help her after the trauma she's been through? Will they ever be able to find their way into each other's arms?

**Spoilers:** All episodes through season 4's "Us."

**Author's Note:** The idea for this story came immediately after I saw the episode "Alone" so that's where I decided to start the story. I did add some of my own scenes to the episode and changed some of the scenes around to fit my story. It will include some scenes from the episode, "Us," but mostly I decided to take my own spin on season 4 (i.e. no Terminus). My intention never was to post this story, but after a spark of inspiration, I decided to put it out there for all of the other Bethyl fans. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review!

**Chapter 1**

He could see her out of the corner of his eye from his position in the coffin. He could hear her voice, lulling him into peacefulness. Her back was to him, but he could make out her fingers skillfully flying over the keys. Her long, blonde hair tied back in a messy pony tale. He wondered what it would feel like to run his hands through her long locks.

When the song ended, Daryl felt a sense of loss. He wanted to hear just one more song even though she had been playing and singing for over an hour. He closed his eyes tightly as he saw her begin to turn on the stool. He didn't want her to know he had been watching her. Even though he could no longer see her, he felt her eyes on him. He wondered what she thought of him. He knew her opinion of him wasn't very high when they started their journey together, but he hoped she was starting to see the new him. He was changing. Everyone was changing.

"Daryl?" She said in a half-whisper.

"Mhmm?"

"I…" She didn't quite know what she was going to say. Thank him for getting her to such a safe place? Thank him for the piggy back ride or for wrapping her ankle? Convince him that they should stay there or try to convince him that they should move on to continue looking for the others even though she knew they were most likely dead?

He opened his eyes to look at her. He could sense something was wrong just by the emotions written on her face. She was tired, scared, and in pain even though he knew she would never admit it out loud. She had toughened up, which most would assume was a good thing. Daryl, though, hated that the right to have emotions was taken from her.

"What is it, Beth?" He finally asked, prompting her to go on.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She really didn't know what she was going to say.

"I can take first watch," she finally blurted out.

He scoffed, knowing that wasn't what she was going to say at all.

"I've got it," he responded.

"You've been stayin' up most nights. There are the two bedrooms upstairs, you can take one and I'll stay down here. I'm sure the beds are more comfortable than that coffin and…"

"That ain't gonna happen. You need to rest that foot."

"It's not like I'm gonna keep watch the whole night standin' up," she insisted.

"You need sleep to heal."

Beth rolled her eyes. "It's just my foot!"

"Which is a pretty important part of your body when it comes to runnin' away from the walkers."

Aggravated, Beth crossed her arms. She was trying to do the right thing, the brave thing, but he wouldn't let her. He was always treating her like a child; like she wasn't capable of keeping watch as well as he was. Sometimes protective Daryl was cute. Sometimes it was annoying.

"Alright, fine."

"Might find some clothes or somethin' in that girl's room upstairs."

"Yeah, thanks."

He sat up and was about to climb out of the coffin when Beth stood up. She took one step and nearly fell. She had been sitting for so long, the pressure on her foot and the pain that shot up her leg took her by surprise.

"Let me help you up the stairs," he said.

"I'm fine."

"Your foot got stuck in a trap, Beth. You shouldn't be…"

"I don't need your help!" Beth yelled.

Daryl threw his arms up in defeat and slunk back in the coffin. He immediately closed his eyes, trying to show that he didn't care that she had brushed him off. The truth, of course, was that he did care. He wanted her to need him.

Beth hobbled out of the room. Cursing Daryl under her breath for not trusting her to keep watch, she climbed the stairs slowly. By the time she got to the top, she was panting. It had been hot downstairs, the Georgia heat taking its toll, but upstairs was practically unbearable. Beth could feel the sweat pouring down her back.

Wiping the beads of sweat from her brow, Beth made her way to the girl's room Daryl had mentioned. She had seen it earlier when she and Daryl had searched the place from top to bottom. Beth had to admit that the bed did look incredibly inviting. It had been too long since she had last slept in a real bed. The cots at the prison had been fine, but nothing beat a bed with a real mattress.

Before allowing herself to try out the bed, Beth looked over the room more carefully. It was strange how untouched the girl's room looked. It was as if someone had been living in it up to the moment she and Daryl had arrived. The bed was neatly made with bright red pillow cases and blankets. There were posters and pictures hung neatly on the wall. The girl obviously loved the color red, hearts, and horses.

Beth picked up a small, realistic-looking plastic horse on the girl's desk. It made Beth miss the horses she and her family had once had on their farm. As she replaced the horse, she saw a book lying out on the desk with a pen placed carefully next to it. Beth opened the cover of the book and found it was as she thought. It was a journal. The first page was full of a young girl's handwriting. Beth looked at the words, but didn't actually read them. She knew how angry she would be if someone read her journal, but who knew if this girl would ever return. Beth turned the page and found it blank. She flipped through the book. The only page written on was that first one.

"I'm sorry," Beth whispered. Somehow she knew that if the girl were still alive, the journal would have been full. The fact that there was only one page written on was not a good sign.

Beth tucked the journal under her arm and turned her attention to the girl's closet. Beth quickly looked through all of the brightly-colored clothes. Judging on the style and size of the clothes, Beth guessed the girl couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve. So much for finding something else to wear, she thought. As she was about to give up, Beth saw a suitcase tucked into the back of the closet. She pulled it out and opened it. It was full of men's clothes. She pulled out a T-Shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. They were going to be too big, but anything was better than the dirty clothes she was wearing. Beth stared at the suitcase for a moment, wondering why there would be men's clothes in a little girl's room. As she dug further into the suitcase, she found a few bottles of water, a first aid kid, and a handful of granola bars. It was a getaway bag. Whoever left it obviously hadn't had the chance to take it with them before they left.

Beth quickly rid herself of her zombie gut-stained golf shirt and her tattered jeans. She threw them on the floor and pulled the T-Shirt and shorts on. Although she was sure she looked ridiculous, Beth hobbled over to the bed and made herself comfortable. She placed the journal she was still holding next to her on the bed. For some reason, she just didn't want to let it go.

Beth turned to her side, hugging one of the pillows close to her body. It still had a faint floral smell. Beth guessed it was from the girl's shampoo. She breathed it in, having not smelled something that good in a long time. Beth closed her eyes, trying to ignore her throbbing foot and the sweat pouring from every spot on her body. Her mind immediately went to Daryl. She wondered if he was still awake. Even though he said he'd keep watch, that didn't mean he wouldn't fall asleep by accident. She wondered what he had been thinking as she played the piano and sang. Was he annoyed? Did he like hearing her sing? Was he thinking about her the way she was thinking about him?

Beth sat straight up. She knew she would never be able to sleep. It didn't matter that she was in a comfortable bed. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep in a room without him. She hadn't slept alone in months. Even though she had her own prison cell, she always knew there were others around. Having Daryl downstairs was too far.

Grabbing the pillow in one hand and the journal in the other, Beth slowly made her way out of the room and down the stairs. She stopped at the entrance to the room where Daryl was still lying in the coffin. Assuming he was asleep, Beth quietly tiptoed into the room. She placed the pillow on the floor and sat down. She opened the journal and thought about what she might write.

"Bed wasn't comfortable?"

Beth nearly jumped.

"I thought you were sleepin'," she gasped.

"I told ya I'd keep watch."

"The bed was comfortable, but…"

Beth didn't quite know what to say. She couldn't exactly admit that the reason she couldn't sleep was because he wasn't with her.

"But what?"

"It's too hot up there," she finally said.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Daryl asked.

Beth looked down at her clothes. She forgot she was wearing an over-sized T-Shirt and bright blue shorts.

"I found them in the girls' closet in a suitcase."

"Uh-huh."

"They're better than wearing a shirt you splattered with zombie guts."

"You found a journal?" Daryl observed, looking at the book she held in her hands.

Beth felt her cheeks turn red. She knew Daryl knew she wrote in a journal. Most everyone in the prison knew, but suddenly it mattered to her what he thought about it. Did he think it was dumb?

"Yeah. It was in her room. I feel bad takin' it, but it only has a page written on. Figured she wouldn't mind."

"It's good. That you write."

"I guess."

"Keeps track of what's goin' on. You know, in case somethin' happens to us and someone finds it. It's good." She smiled. "What?"

"I just…I thought you'd think it was dumb."

"It ain't dumb."

She smiled again. "I never thought of it that way. Keepin' track of what we're doin' in case…you know. It's just not why I started writin'."

"Then why'd you start it?"

"Maggie." He could hear the sadness in her voice when she spoke Maggie's name. "She's the one who convinced me to start writing. Back when my dad was drinkin'. Told me I should put down my feelings instead of keepin' them all inside. It sounds stupid now, but..."

"It ain't stupid."

Beth took a deep breath.

"I can't stop thinking about her…Maggie. I know she's…gone, but…" Beth cut herself off. She knew if she kept talking, she would cry and Beth did not cry. "Could you do it?"

"Do what?"

"If they really have turned into walkers. If you saw Maggie or Glen or Michone or Rick or Carl…if you saw them as walkers…if they came after you…could you kill them? Could you shoot an arrow into their brain?"

"I'd do what I have to do to survive."

"I couldn't. Especially not Maggie. I'd rather…I'd rather turn into a walker myself."

"You don't mean that."

"If they're gone…if they're all gone, what's the point? What's the point of survivin'? To live one more day? One more week? One more month if we're lucky? What's the point of carrying on when there's no one left to carry on for?"

"Because that's what they'd want us to do. Survive. It's the only thing we can do." Daryl paused. "You should get some sleep."

"How 'bout we both sleep? You said this place was secure. If walkers get anywhere near this place, we'll hear 'em."

Daryl sat up. "Feel like I should be a gentleman and offer you the coffin."

"When have you ever been a gentleman, Daryl?"

"Good point."

He lay back down.

"I wouldn't want to sleep in a coffin anyway," Beth scoffed.

She rested her head on the pillow she had brought down from the bedroom upstairs. Beth snuggled deeper into the pillow. She closed her eyes, trying to put aside the usual fear and uncertainty that always plagued her when she tried to fall asleep. She lay still for a few moments before her foot started to throb. She turned her foot slightly, but that only sent a sharp pain shooting up her leg. She turned the other way, but that didn't feel much better. She tried to shift quietly, not wanting to disturb Daryl. It was rare they both had the opportunity for a good night's sleep.

As Beth went to shift once more, she heard Daryl hoisting himself out of the coffin. She mentally berated herself for going back downstairs in the first place. If she had just stayed upstairs, Daryl would be able to have a restful nights sleep.

Beth was about to sit up and tell him she was going to go upstairs despite the sweltering heat when she heard Daryl approach her. She opened her eyes as Daryl tenderly lifted her ankle. He slid the pillow he had been leaning on in the coffin underneath her foot and gently laid her foot back down.

"This should help," he said.

"Thanks."

Daryl's fingertips lingered on her ankle before he lay down beside her. Their bodies were only inches part. It was a familiar scene, but somehow it felt different. Beth closed her eyes and fell asleep with a slight smile on her lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next morning, Beth woke up, feeling disorientated. She opened her eyes and all she saw was white fabric. It was plush and soft, but too unfamiliar. She had to think about where she was. She should have been on the floor with a little girl's pillow smelling of lilacs and daisies underneath her head. Not in an enclosed space with white fabric.

She shot straight up and looked around. She was in the same room she had been in when she fell asleep, but she wasn't exactly in the same spot. It dawned on her that she was inside the coffin. She hated tight spaces; hated the feeling of not being able to move. She could feel the white fabric closing in on her. Her breathing grew heavy and a sweat broke out over her body. Frantically, Beth hurled herself over the side, landing straight on her bad foot.

"Oww!" She cried out as she collapsed to the floor. She heard a bone crunching snap as her foot bared her weight. She gripped her ankle, trying to muffle her pain. She didn't know where Daryl was, but she didn't want him knowing she was weak. She held back the tears, reminding herself that the new and improved Beth did not cry under any circumstances. She rubbed the sore spot, hoping the pain would somehow just disappear.

"Beth?"

She heard his voice and she looked up. Daryl appeared in the doorway. He dropped his crossbow on the ground and immediately ran to her side. He dropped to his knees beside her.

"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth.

"You ain't fine," he replied, seeing the pain on her face.

"I heard something...snap," she admitted.

Daryl examined her foot carefully, being careful not to cause her any more pain. Beth was surprised at the tenderness of his touch. He had rough hands from years of hard work to survive. But when he touched her it was just as if he was cradling Judith for the first time. He was gentle and kind. If it wasn't for the fact that she was in immense pain, she would have smiled at his touch.

"Was it a snap or a pop?" Daryl asked.

"What's the difference?" Beth asked.

"Well, you might have just dislocated it or you might have a fracture," Daryl explained.

"And how do you know that, Dr. Dixon?" Beth asked teasingly.

"I've seen enough broken bones in my lifetime," Daryl said. "Patched Merle up at least a dozen times. We can't know for sure without an x-ray and since I don't think we'll find one of those in workin' order..."

"Can I walk?" Beth interrupted. She knew having an injured foot was bad enough, but having a broken one was most certainly a death sentence.

"It'll be painful. Best to stay off it for a while."

"That's not really an option."

"We'll do the best we can. This place is pretty secure. We should be ok here for a little while. Wish we had some ice to take down the swellin' a bit. We'll just have to keep it elevated and hope the people who live here don't come back anytime soon. We'll need as much time as we can get for you to rest."

"And after that?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

He began rubbing her foot tenderly. It sent a chill down her spine. She never imagined someone like Daryl could be so tender.

"If they come back at all," Beth said softly.

There was somewhat of an awkward pause. Although Beth was glad to have found a place to stay that was so well-supplied and safe from walkers, it was still hard to think about the former occupants of the home. What was their fate?

"How'd I end up in there anyway?" Beth finally asked, pushing the thought of the strangers aside.

"Told you I was trying to be a gentleman."

"You carried me in my sleep and put me in a coffin?" Beth asked, wondering why she hadn't woken up. Since the threat of zombies, everyone had become a light sleeper, Beth included. She tried to remember the moment Daryl scooped her up and placed her inside the coffin. Then she remembered a dream she thought she was having. She and Daryl were in a beautiful home. She was wearing a clean, white nightgown. Daryl picked her up in his arms, held her close, and…

"Better than sleeping on the floor," Daryl said, interrupting her thoughts. "If you hadn't freaked out and jumped out…"

"I did not freak out! You try going to sleep in once place and waking up inside a coffin!" Daryl gave her a sideways glance. "Fine, maybe I freaked out a little. I just…I don't like small spaces."

"Didn't know you were claustrophobic."

"I am not claustrophobic."

"Why you so defensive all the time? It's ok to have fears."

"No it ain't. Not in the world we live in." They both sat in an awkward silence. Daryl stopped rubbing her foot, but his hand remained on her ankle. "Thank you for...putting me in the coffin. You're right. It was more comfortable than the floor. What were you doing before I woke up?"

"I went outside to see what else is around and…"

"You went out? Without me?"

"I didn't go far. Just wanted to see what I could see."

"Daryl, that's dangerous!"

"I told you, I didn't go far."

"Did you see any walkers?"

"No, but I did see a lake on the other side of the field. Thinking of going down to get some water."

"But we got drinking water."

"For bathing," he said. "Plenty of jugs and bottles and pots down in the kitchen and I saw a wheelbarrow out back. Figured I would fill them up use the wheelbarrow to bring back all the water I can. We can wash up a bit in the tub."

"That would be nice," Beth said, thinking of how nice a real bath would feel. It had been ages since she had actually felt clean. "But you can't go alone."

"You won't make it far on that foot."

"But if…"

"I'll be fine, Beth."

"But I won't!"

"I thought you could take care of yourself."

"I can, but Daryl…"

"I told you, this place is buttoned up tight. I'll make sure you're somewhere safe where you won't have to do a lot of moving around and you got your knife. I won't be gone more than…"

"That's not what I mean! If you go out there and you get bit...I couldn't...I wouldn't…" She cut herself off and took a deep breath. "I know last night you said you'd do whatever it took to survive. And maybe you're right. Maybe if I saw Maggie or Glen as a walker, I'd be able to...but not you."

"You'd do what you have to do. If I don't come back…"

"Don't say that."

"If I don't come back, you gotta swear to me you'll keep fightin'."

"Daryl…"

"Swear it, Beth! We didn't come this far for you to give up!"

"Fine! But then you gotta swear the same thing!"

"What do you mean?"

"If we gotta run and I can't because of my foot, you gotta leave me."

"No."

"That's the deal. I swear to survive no matter what and you swear to keep goin' without me no matter what. I won't be the reason you die, Daryl Dixon. You do what you gotta do. That's the deal."

Daryl took a deep breath. He didn't like it, but if that's what it was going to take to convince her to keep living, he would agree to just about anything.

"Fine," he finally said. Deep down, though, he knew he would never really be able to leave her. He would risk his own life to save her every time.

She extended her hand. "Shake on it," she commanded. He reluctantly took her hand in his and they shook.

"Alright, I'm going out to get that water." Without another word, he slid his left arm beneath her legs and his right arm around her torso.

"What are you…"

He lifted her into his arms with ease. Beth immediately wrapped her arms around his neck. She told herself it was just for safety, in case his arms gave way and she started to fall, but she knew he would never let her fall. She just wanted to be closer to him.

"Can't stay on the floor like that," Daryl said. He headed out of the room and towards the stairs.

"Where are we going?"

He began his ascent up the stairs, holding her securely in his arms.

"Bedroom. Tubs up there anyway. Plus, if this place gets taken over, there's a trellis from the girl's room that runs to the ground you can climb down."

"With one foot?"

"Hopefully it doesn't come to that."

He hooked a left at the top of the stairs and went two doors down. He scanned the room quickly, looking for any signs of danger, before placing Beth gently down on the bed. Thankfully the temperatures had let up a bit and it wasn't as sweltering as it had been the night before.

"You got your knife?" He asked. She pulled it out of the holster from around her back to show him. "Good. If I'm not back in one hour…"

"Daryl, I still don't think this is a good idea. I mean, why risk your life to take a bath?"

"Honestly? Because you kind of stink, Beth," he answered with a slight grin.

Beth took the nearest object, which happened to be a stuffed, white horse, and hurled it at him.

"You don't smell too good yourself. I'm just too much of a lady to mention it."

Daryl scoffed. "See you in an hour."

"Be careful," Beth said.

Daryl nodded and headed out of the room. He picked up his cross bow off the floor before heading down to the kitchen. He scooped up the two empty water jugs he and Beth had already finished as well as various pots, pans, and bottles. He knew he wouldn't be able to bring back enough water for a real bath, but some water was better than none. After gathering whatever he could find, Daryl checked the front door to make sure the path was clear of walkers. He slipped outside and went out towards the lake.

**Author's Note:** In case anyone is wondering, this story will be about 30 chapters long. The good news is, 99% of it is already been written so hopefully I will get the chapters up quickly. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

With no clock to look at, Beth started counting. If Daryl was gone for more than an hour, or 3600 seconds in her mind, she was going to go out there and look for him, bad foot and all. She didn't like the idea that he was risking his life to get something as unnecessary as bath water, but she did appreciate the fact that soon she would feel at least a little bit cleaner and a little bit more human.

Hopping down off the bed on her one good foot, Beth made her way out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall. She looked in the bathtub, happy to find that it was clean just as the rest of the house was. She sat down on the edge of the tub and picked up a small, pink bottle of shampoo. As she lifted it, she realized it was empty. She held it in her hands, wondering why anyone would keep an empty bottle. Had the little girl left it there as a reminder of what used to be her favorite smell? Had a father or mother left there as a reminder of a little girl lost?

Beth carefully replaced the bottle. Empty or not, she was going to leave it just as she found it. She then reached for the man's shampoo. She flipped open the top and smelled it. She crinkled her nose. It wouldn't be her first choice, but any shampoo was a hell of a lot better than no shampoo at all. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining what it would feel like to smell that particular shampoo in Daryl's hair. It certainly didn't smell like the type of shampoo he would use. It wasn't the kind of smell you would expect to find on a man who was comfortable in the wilderness. That shampoo was the kind you would expect from a business man in a three piece suit. Still, though, Beth imagined him lathering up his hair, relishing in the clean feeling. Her cheeks turned pink thinking about him in the shower.

Trying to rid the thoughts of Daryl from her mind, Beth put the bottle of shampoo back on the little shelf in the tub. Next, she reached for the pink body wash. This time when she lifted it, she felt a little liquid inside. She nearly squealed. Her hair might smell like a man, but at least her body would smell feminine. She wondered if Daryl would like the scent on her.

Beth mentally berated herself as she returned the body wash. She shouldn't be thinking about the smells Daryl liked. She shouldn't be thinking about Daryl at all. Recently he had consumed all of her thoughts. She knew she should just be happy and grateful that he was keeping her safe; that he hadn't abandoned her the moment he realized she wasn't as useful as Maggie or Michone. It was hard, though, to have him as her only companion and not think about him in that way. He was attractive; she had noticed that the first time she had laid eyes on him so many months before. When she first met him, he didn't seem that smart or friendly, but the more she got to know him, she realized how wrong she was. He was smart, maybe smarter than all of them and he had opened up to her, more than he had to anyone else.

"What am I going to do?" She said out loud to herself.

As Beth scanned the rest of the bathroom, looking for any other toiletries that might come in handy, she realized she had lost count of the seconds. How long had Daryl been gone? Ten minutes? Twenty? Longer? She had been so caught up the shampoo and body wash and thoughts of him that she had forgotten to count. Beginning to worry, Beth sprang to her feet. Realizing immediately that was a poor decision for her foot, she fell back down onto the edge of the tub. She gave herself a few minutes to breathe through the pain before she tried again. This time, she kept all of her weight on her right foot. Using anything she could to lean on and balance herself, she hopped back towards the bedroom.

The sound of the cans banging together stopped her in her tracks in the middle of the hallway. There was something or someone outside. If it were walkers, the boarded up doors and windows would keep them out. If it was the house's former occupants, Beth wasn't so sure what she would do. Would she be able to explain to them that she and Daryl meant them no harm before they tried to kill her? Was Daryl right - were there no good people left?

Beth heard the front door open. She held her breath, listening. Whoever was coming in, it didn't sound like a walker. As sweat trickled down her back, Beth grabbed her knife from its holster and held it out. Having only one good foot was not going to make this a very fair fight. She knew the smart thing to do would be to hide. That's what Daryl would have said. Hell, that's what anyone would have done. Why fight when you don't have to? The girl's closet, after all, was only a few yards away. But Beth didn't budge. She was tired of hiding. She was ready to fight. She held her breath, straining to listen to any sounds that might identify what was coming for her.

"Beth?" Daryl yelled out. She let out her breath. It was only Daryl. He was back and he was safe. "Beth?"

He came bounding up the stairs, his cross bow out in front of him at the ready. When he saw her standing at the bedroom door, he immediately lowered it and slung it across his back.

"Why didn't you answer me?" He demanded.

"You didn't exactly give me the chance," she replied, trying to keep from shaking. She hadn't realized just how scared she had actually been.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine. Are you ok?"

"Yea."

"Did you get the water?"

"Got some."

"Were there any walkers?"

"Just one. Near the lake."

"By itself?"

"Think so. It looked…" He trailed off.

"What? It looked what?"

"New," he answered. "Like it had just turned. Nice clothes, clean. Thinkin' maybe it's whoever was living in this house."

"Maybe," Beth whispered.

"Anyway, I got plenty of water and some wood."

"Wood?"

"Gonna start a fire in the fireplace. Let the water boil before we use it. No tellin' what the hell could be in that water."

"Think startin' a fire is safe? What if it attracts walkers?"

"I think we'll be alright. That chimney's pretty high. Don't think walkers will even notice it."

"Ok. Can I help?"

"You gotta rest that foot, Beth. You should be sittin' down…restin'."

Daryl went to scoop her up again in his arms, but she hopped out of the way.

"I can do it."

Balancing on her right foot, she made her way back over to the bed. She sat down.

"I'll be back with the water when it's ready," he said.

"And what am I supposed to do while you're boiling water?"

Daryl shrugged. He scanned the room quickly. His eyes stopped on a bookcase full of horse figurines and books.

"Why don't you read a book or something?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "I can do more to help than read a book. Besides, the girl who lived here was like twelve. I don't think she'll have anything I want to read."

Daryl walked over to the bookcase. Although he couldn't remember the last book he read, he grabbed a familiar looking book off the shelf. He tossed it onto the bed next to Beth.

"Heard this one's pretty good," he said.

"Harry Potter? Really?"

"I'll be back."

Nearly thirty minutes later, Daryl trudged up the steps, carrying a jug of boiling water in each hand. As he passed by the bedroom, he glanced inside. Beth was leaning against the headboard of the bed, her injured foot propped up on a red, fluffy pillow. She was fully engaged in the book Daryl had tossed at her. He took a moment to look at her before he went into the bathroom. He placed the jugs on the floor next to the bathtub. He pressed the rubber stopper into the drain and then poured the water in. The two jugs barely filled the tub with an inch of water. It was going to take a lot more water to create a real bath.

After taking three more trips down to the room with the fireplace, and taking up six more jugs of water, Daryl had managed to fill the tub a few inches. He knew that was going to have to do. Daryl walked back to the bedroom where Beth was still sitting on the bed, completely engrossed. Daryl stood in the doorway, watching her. After a few moments, he finally cleared his throat. Beth nearly dropped the book as she turned to look at him.

"How long have you been standin' there?" She asked.

"Long enough to know you are enjoying a book owned by a twelve year old."

Beth blushed and Daryl smirked. "It's not much, but there should be enough water for you to get clean. I left two jugs next to the tub for you to rinse off."

"Thanks. Did you leave some water for yourself?"

"Yeah, there's some more downstairs waiting to boil."

"Have you checked outside for any walkers?"

"Peaked out a few times. Nothing in sight."

"Good." Daryl approached the bed. He extended his hand.

"What are you doin'?"

"Helpin' you."

"Daryl, I don't need…"

"Just take the help, Beth."

She scooted to the edge of the bed and put her arm around Daryl's shoulder. She held on to him as she hopped out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the bathroom. She looked in the tub. It wasn't much water, but it was better than nothing.

"Thank you. For doing this," Beth said.

"Like I said, you're starting to smell." Beth was about to respond when he cut her off. "I'll be downstairs. Keep your knife close."

"Yes, sir."

Daryl left the room, closing the door on his way out. He stood outside the bathroom and took a deep breath. He knew he had to stop. He had to stop thinking about her as more than a companion. He had to somehow rid her from his mind, but with every passing moment, that was proving more difficult.

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for reading! I am not one of those authors who won't post the next chapter unless I get some reviews, but I would like to ask if you are enjoying my story to please leave me some kind of review. It does make me very happy when I read the reviews and see that people are reading/liking my story. I also appreciate constructive criticism because I am always working on getting better! Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Beth sank herself down into the tub. The water was still warm and felt good against her battered, dirty body. She had already grabbed a face cloth and several towels from the linen closet. She dunked the face cloth in one of the buckets next to the tub since the few inches of water she was sitting in had already turned a dingy brown from all the dirt on her body. She grabbed the pink bottle of body wash and squeezed a huge glob of it on the wet face cloth. After lathering up the face cloth, she began to scrub her body from top to bottom. Every once in a while she stopped to rinse off the face cloth and add more soap. She was determined to get as clean as possible. There was no telling when her next bath might be.

When her skin had turned a shade of pink from all of the tough scrubbing, she reached up and pulled her hair from its pony tail. It was difficult to get the elastic out. That's how snarled it had become. Beth ran her hands through the twisted locks and undid the braid she had put in so many days before. She realized it had been days since she had taken her hair out of the ponytail it was in. Using about half of one of the buckets, she dumped the water over her head, wetting her hair as much as possible. Next, she took the men's shampoo and poured it right on top of her head. She worked it in as best as possible, trying to clean every strand from her scalp to the tips. Her fingers kept getting stuck in the tangles, but she kept working at it. Feeling as if she did a good enough job as possible, she grabbed the bucket of clean water and poured it over her head. She started working on rinsing the shampoo out. When she had gone through one whole bucket, she stopped. She was going to need the other bucket to rinse off her body. Beth sighed. She may still have shampoo in her hair, but that was going to have to do. She wished there was some conditioner to make the tangles more manageable, but she wasn't going to complain. It felt amazing having a clean head of hair for once.

Beth stood up, remembering to balance on her uninjured foot. She picked up the second bucket of clean water and sparingly began to pour it over different parts of her body. She could feel a mixture of dirty and soap flying off of her. She let the smell of the body wash take over her senses and she closed her eyes temporarily to take it all in. For a brief moment she forgot that her sister and everyone she knew was most likely dead, that her father had been beheaded in front of her, and that there were flesh-eating walkers out to get her at every moment. She just let herself be happy that was clean.

Once all the clean water was gone, Beth climbed out of the tub. She pulled the drain, watching the brown, dirty water disappear. She sat on the edge as she dried herself off. She looked at the clothes she had discarded on the floor.

"Crap," she said.

There was no way in hell she was going to put the clothes she had just been wearing back on. She was way too clean for that. Daryl had said he would be waiting downstairs, right? If that were the case, she could easily slip into the girl's room undetected. Beth stood up and wrapped the towel tightly around her. Thankfully it was a fairly large towel and she was rather petite. She half hobbled and half hopped her way to the door. She opened it and screamed. Startled, she put her bad foot to the ground, causing her to yell out again. Daryl immediately caught her before she fell.

"You alright?" He asked. He couldn't help but notice his arms were wrapped around her very naked shoulders. All she was wearing was a yellow towel and her cross necklace she never took off. Her scent intoxicated him.

Beth clutched the towel to her chest. "You were supposed to be downstairs!" She yelled.

"I came up to find you some clean clothes," he responded.

She wouldn't meet his eyes. She couldn't believe how embarrassed she was. Sure, there were things in the zombie apocalypse you did that you might never have done before that like sleeping next to people you barely knew or sharing feelings with complete strangers, but being half naked in front of Daryl was not one of them.

"Could you let me go? In case you haven't noticed, I'm in nothing but a towel!"

"I noticed," Daryl muttered as he carefully helped her steady herself on her foot before dropping his arm from her shoulders. Beth made sure the towel was still firmly wrapped around her.

"What?" She asked, knowing he said something, but not sure what he had said.

"Nothin'. I found some clothes in the big bedroom that might be better than the twelve year old's wardrobe. Left them on the bed for you."

"Thank you."

"Did you have enough water?"

She nodded. "I used it all. Hopefully there's still enough left for you downstairs."

"There'll be enough."

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He could tell she was embarrassed, but she had no reason to be. Daryl had seen his fair share of naked women, but there was something about her that was so…different. Maybe it was because she was so young or maybe because she seemed so innocent. He didn't know exactly why, but he knew that he wanted her.

"I'm…I'm gonna go get dressed," Beth finally said, sensing an awkwardness between them.

"Need help?" She looked at him with wide eyes. He immediately realized the connotation to what he just said and tried to correct himself, stumbling over his own words. "I meant with getting to the bedroom."

"No, I'm fine." Beth turned, but then looked back at him. "Were there any clothes for you?"

"What?"

"In the bedroom. Did you find any clothes for you to wear?"

"Didn't look."

"Why?"

"Because I ain't put on somebody else's clothes."

"Daryl, you can't put those dirty clothes back on after you get all clean in the bath. There'd be no point to even takin' a bath!"

"I said, I ain't wearin' anybody else's clothes!" He shouted.

"But…"

He slammed his fist against the wall. "I ain't wearin' someone else's clothes!" He yelled.

"Fine! You do what you want!" Beth turned and strut into the bedroom as best she could with her hurt foot. She slammed the door.

Daryl stood alone in the hallway, replaying the conversation in his mind. He knew he shouldn't have yelled, but he was sure as hell not going to wear whatever clothes were in that bedroom. Slamming the wall once more, Daryl headed back downstairs to get more water.

With a towel around his waist, Daryl made his way out of the bathroom. Unlike Beth, he wasn't worried about his modesty. He almost hoped he would run into Beth. He would have liked to see her face when she saw him in a towel. He left his dirty clothes on the floor of the bathroom. Somewhere between shampooing his hair and rinsing the muck and filth off his body, he realized he was being stubborn. Beth was right, it was stupid to put his dirty clothes back on before he had the opportunity to wash them. They were just clothes and clothes didn't have anything to do with who he was as a man.

Daryl walked to the master bedroom. It was a typical bedroom painted a light grey, containing one king size bed, two dressers, and a few bed-side tables. Something about it, though, seemed off. There were no photographs, no knickknacks. It didn't feel very homey. Daryl shrugged off the odd feeling and was about to start going through the closet when he saw a shirt and pair of sweat pants laid out on the bed. As Daryl got closer, he saw a note on top of the clothes.

"Don't be an ass," Daryl read out loud. It was clearly scrawled out in Beth's handwriting. She had picked the outfit for him. Daryl couldn't help but smile. He quickly slipped on the outfit. The pants were about two sizes too big and the T-Shirt was bright green, but it didn't matter. Daryl thought he'd never be caught dead in an outfit like the one he was wearing, but things had changed. What he was wearing didn't matter anymore.

Daryl left the room and made his way down the hall. He stopped outside the girl's room, staring at the door Beth had slammed in his face. He raised his hand to knock, realizing how long it had been since he had actually knocked on a door unless they were banging on it to check for walkers.

"Just come in," he heard Beth yell from behind the door.

Daryl reached for the handle and opened the door. He saw Beth sitting on the bed, reading the Harry Potter book he had tossed at her earlier. She threw the book aside and focused her attention on Daryl.

"How'd ya know I was out there?"

"Saw your shadow under the door. One way to detect walkers without makin' any noise. You taught me that."

Daryl grabbed the desk chair and sat on it backwards, facing Beth. He looked Beth over quickly. She looked more like the teenage girl he had met months earlier. Her hair was still wet, but was free-flowing, cascading down her back. Her skin was pink and clean. She was wearing a red tank top and pair of very short shorts. Daryl was sure Hershel would never have approved.

"How'd you know I wasn't a walker?" He asked.

Beth shrugged. "Nice outfit, by the way. Green really is your color."

"You couldn't have picked somethin' less…bright?"

"What would be the fun in that?"

"I'm sorry…'bout earlier…'bout yellin'"

"It's ok," she assured him.

"No. It ain't."

"Why was it such a big deal? For you not to wear someone else's clothes?"

"I never had new clothes as a kid. Always wearin' hand me downs or clothes from good will or wherever I could find 'em. When we were kids, sometimes Merle and I would wear the same thing for days. I told myself I would never wear somethin' that belonged to someone else again."

"I'm sorry. For pushin' you."

"No," he said. "It's alright. I was bein' an ass, just like you said. You hungry? Might be a little late for breakfast, but we could call it brunch."

"Brunch sounds lovely," she replied.

Daryl stood up and offered her his hand. She took it without an argument. He pulled her to her feet. She put an arm around his shoulder and leaned on him as they walked out of the room. They made their way down the stairs slowly.

"Come on. Can't you go any faster?" Daryl teased.

"I'm going as fast as I can."

Even with his help, Daryl could tell she was in pain. As they hit the bottom step, Daryl couldn't stand seeing the pain on her face any longer. He scooped her up in his arms in one easy swoop.

"Hey!" She squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Daryl carried her into the kitchen, kicking open the door as he went. He placed her carefully down on a chair, taking an extra second to breathe in her floral scent. It had been a long time since he had smelled something so feminine. His nose lingered against her hair and he smiled. He recognized it as the shampoo he had used.

"You smell…" he began. "Like a man."

Beth playfully slugged him on the arm. "The only shampoo left was men's."

"Want some pig's feet?" He asked, going to the cabinet they had found that was still well stocked with food.

"That's disgusting."

"Jelly it is then."

Daryl grabbed the jelly jar. They had already consumed a good portion of it. He scooped some out for Beth onto a plate and placed it in front of her with a spoon. He took a large spoon and kept the jar.

**Author's Note:** So this chapter was the first chapter I wrote of the entire story (I always write out of order, which is a pain when it comes to making the story make sense!) Anyway, I just kept imaging an awkward "Beth in a towel" moment between them and I just had to write it. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please don't forget to review!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was nearly nine o'clock that night when Daryl sauntered into the main viewing room where he and Beth had spent the night before. They had each spent the day mostly separate from each other, not really having seen each other since their brunch that morning. Beth had volunteered to wash their clothes with the water that was left after Daryl took a bath. She had taken a large pot into the kitchen and had been scrubbing the clothes with laundry detergent she had found as best she could. She was more concerned with getting the smell out than getting any particular stains out.

While she was inside, Daryl had spent most of the day outside, examining the perimeter and trying to come up with a way that would make the house even safer from walkers. He found some wooden planks next to the house. They were the same planks that were used to board up the windows. He wondered if he could use them to build some kind of fence.

When Daryl saw her, she was sitting at the piano again, her fingers gliding easily over the keys. This time, though, she wasn't singing. She was focused totally on playing. Daryl quietly entered the room. He took a seat on one of the padded chairs and watched her. Her hair had started to curl slightly since it had dried. He realized he had never seen her hair completely loose. She always kept it up, away from her face for practical reasons. The desire to run his hands through her hair overwhelmed her.

A good ten minutes went by as Beth switched from one classical song to a louder, rock song that Daryl didn't quite recognize. He wondered how many different songs she actually knew. He realized he could easily sit there and listen to her all day.

"How long are you going to sit there?" Beth asked, talking loudly over the sound of the piano as she kept playing.

"How long did you know I was sittin' here?" Daryl replied.

"Halfway through Beethoven," she said.

She finally stopped playing and turned to look at him. He was still wearing the ridiculous green shirt and sweat pants. Just looking at him in that getup made Beth smile.

"You're getting good," he complimented.

"At what? Piano? I would hope so, I've been playin' since I was five."

"No. Not at piano, although you're good at that too. You're getting' good at sensing things. Seein' things that other people don't pay attention to."

"I learned it all from you. You're a good teacher."

"How's your foot?" Daryl asked, changing the conversation.

"Better."

"You…ah…want me to get you something to eat?"

"No," Beth said. "I'm fine. Still full from brunch. I'm actually tired."

"It's cooler tonight. Bedroom should be tolerable."

Beth looked down at the red pillow that was still on the floor from the night before. She was planning on spending the night back on the floor with Daryl in the same room as her, but that clearly was not his intention.

"I can keep watch," Beth said.

"I don't…"

"You kept watch last night, Daryl. It's only fair that I keep watch tonight."

"You don't have to keep watch."

"I'm hurt, Daryl, not incompetent. I am quite capable of keeping watch. You don't have to treat me like an invalid or a little girl!"  
Daryl could see the anger in her eyes. He wished he could tell her that he had stopped thinking of her as anything but capable a while back. She had proven time and time again that she was more than capable.

"I was gonna say that maybe we could both try to get a good nights sleep."

"Oh."

"Doesn't seem like there are any walkers in sight and they can't get in. We're safe here. Mine as well get some sleep while we can. You can take the big bedroom."

"And you'll sleep where? In the room full of hearts and horses?"

"A bed's a bed."

"I'll take the girl's room. Enjoy the king sized bed."

Daryl nodded. "Alright." He stood up and approached her. This time she didn't protest when he placed one arm under her knees and one arm around her torso. He lifted her effortlessly.

"You don't need to carry me," she said.

"I know," he said. What he didn't admit out loud was that he just liked the feeling of her in his arms.

He carried her out of the room and up the stairs. They didn't speak as he delivered her to the bed in the girl's room. The room was dark, the sun having gone down hours earlier. Daryl reached for a candle he had strategically put on the desk while Beth had been in the bath. He lit it, casting the room in a light glow. Next he went to the bookcase and picked out another Harry Potter book. He tossed it to her on the bed. She picked it up.

"This is number three," she said. "Gotta read 'em in order. I need number two."

He scanned the shelf again, but didn't see a Harry Potter book with a number two on it.

"Leave a complaint of the maid," Daryl joked with a straight face. He suddenly got very serious. "You have your knife?"

"Don't I always have my knife?"

"If anything happens…run. We'll meet…"

"On the road. I remember. We've gone over it a dozen times."

"Just don't want to get separated."

"Me either."

"Goodnight, Beth."

"Goodnight."

He walked out of the room, leaving her behind. As soon as he vanished, she couldn't help but wish he had stayed with her. Beth settled herself on the bed, trying to make herself comfortable. She picked up the book and began to read.

Daryl stood outside the bedroom door, leaning against the wall. He forced himself to take a deep breath. He knew he was entering dangerous territory. They were getting too comfortable in the house and too comfortable with each other. Daryl never would have imagined he'd start feeling for Beth what he was feeling. He didn't even know how to describe it. It was somewhere between needing to keep her safe and needing her.

Wishing there was somewhere he could take a cold shower, Daryl made his way to the master bedroom. The first thing he did was strip himself of that ridiculous shirt. His clothes were still hanging up on the line outside to dry, but that didn't mean he had to stay wearing fluorescent green. Making sure his crossbow was lying on the bed next to him, he got into bed. He took a deep breath. He knew he was tired. Hell, everyone was always tired. A good night's sleep was something of the past. Daryl was in the most comfortable, safe place he had been in while, but he couldn't sleep and he knew why. She was sleeping just a bedroom away.

After nearly an hour of lying awake with his eyes wide open, Daryl decided to give up on sleep. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep with Beth so close by. As he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, he heard the sound of the floorboard creaking outside the room. Without a second thought, he grabbed his crossbow and trained it at the door. It was pitch black in the room. Daryl had the upper hand with his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He waited as the door knob turned. Although he didn't know who was outside the door, he did know it wasn't a walker. Walkers didn't turn doorknobs. That left two options. It was either Beth or someone else who had found the house. He had been stupid to think that they were safe.

The door began to creak open.

"Stop right there," he said.

"It's me, Daryl," Beth replied.

Daryl immediately lowered his crossbow and tossed it back on the bed beside him.

"Come in."

She opened the door fully. She was holding the candle from her room in her hand, giving the room a little bit of light. She stood in the doorway, staring at him. She had seen him without a shirt before, but this was different. He was clean, smelled amazing, and was sitting on the edge of the bed as if welcoming her to join him.

"I…I…" she stuttered, trying to come up with some excuse as to why she was walking into his room.

"You ok?" He asked.

"Yeah, I just…couldn't sleep," she said lamely.

"Me either."

"It feels strange to…be alone, ya know."

"Yeah."

"I was wondering if I could sleep with you." Her cheeks turned bright red once she realized the connotation to what she had said. "I mean, not with you. I don't want to sleep with you. I mean, I don't not want to sleep with you, but…I just…I don't wanna be alone." As she tumbled over her words, Daryl looked at her. She was still wearing the same tank top and shorts. Her hair was still down, falling well past her shoulders. She looked more beautiful than ever. She fingered the small cross around her neck, nervously.

"I'll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed."

"The bed's big enough," Beth said quietly.

"No, I…"

"Daryl, it's fine. Silly for you to sleep on the floor. Who knows when we'll have somewhere comfortable to sleep again."

Daryl knew he should protest. He should just lie down on the floor and let her take the bed, but he didn't want to. He wanted to feel her beside him.

"Alright," he agreed.

Beth stepped into the room and walked around to the other side of the bed. Daryl moved his cross bow off the bed and onto the floor, resting it against the bed so it was still within grasp. Beth put the candle on the bedside table, blew it out, and climbed onto the bed. They both lay back at the same time, leaving a good foot of space between them. Beth tried to control her breathing, her mind unable to stop thinking about the man next to her. She had spent most nights sleeping near another person. The two of them had slept closer together on the floor the night before, but there was something about sleeping in a bed so close to him that excited her. It felt so real and not like something they had to do for survival.

A few minutes later, Beth turned to her right side, away from him. She closed her eyes, trying her best to let sleep overtake her. A moment later, she could feel Daryl shift. She felt his hand on her arm. His fingers ran a trail from her bare shoulder down to her wrist. She scooted back slightly, feeling his body against hers. She molded into him, her back against her chest. He draped his arm over her body, pulling her even tighter against him. His left arm leaned on her hip. His right arm rested above his head on the pillow. Beth picked her head up and rested it lightly on his forearm. He nuzzled his nose against her hair. She sighed contentedly. She hadn't felt that safe and happy in a long time.

"You smell amazing," he whispered against her ear.

"I thought I smelled like a man," she replied.

"Goodnight, Beth."

"Goodnight."

**Author's Note:** I loved writing this chapter. I couldn't wait to get to a "spooning" scene. For those of you who might have noticed my mistake last chapter using the name Julia instead of Beth, I apologize. I am simultaneously working on another fanfic with a character named Julia. Guess I just confused them! As always, thanks for reading and please, please, please don't forget to review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The next morning, Beth awoke with a smile on her face. He was still beside her asleep, his breath coming out slow and even. They had barely moved throughout the night. His arm was still draped over her, but their legs had become entangled. Her head was still resting on his arm. Beth cocked her head slightly and planted a kiss on his forearm. She closed her eyes, and took time to relish the moment. There had been so few moments that made her happy over the last several months. Being there with him that morning was probably the happiest she had been.

Beth opened her eyes and glanced out the window. The sun was just starting to come up. Even though it was early, she knew Daryl would be awake soon. They never slept much past sunrise no matter their circumstances. Just as she was about to roll over to face him, she felt him stir. Suddenly she wondered if the moment he realized he was holding her in his sleep would be embarrassing. Should she have snuck out of the room before he woke up? He wrapped his arm around her a little more tightly.

"I don't think I have any feelin' left in my arm," Daryl mumbled.

"Sorry!" Beth replied, moving her head from his arm to the pillow. She felt her cheeks turn pink and she was very glad that she wasn't facing him.

"Sleep well?" Daryl asked.

"Very. You?"

"Damn better than the prison."

"Bed's more comfortable."

"Or maybe it's cause of the company."

Beth blushed yet again. "I was thinkin' I would make an inventory of what we got here. Maybe start rationin' the food or figurin' out what we should take with us when we're ready to leave."

"Good idea. Just make sure you rest that foot."

"I will."

"I'm gonna check the perimeter. Make sure we're still ok."

Daryl finally removed his arms from around her waist. He got out of bed, grabbed his crossbow, and left the room all without saying another word. Beth was left, wondering what had happened. How had everything gone from feeling so normal to him running away like he had been burned?

"Men," Beth mumbled under her breath. She sat up and got ready for the day.

Beth sat on the floor of the girl's room, the contents of all the drawers of the bureau sitting around her. She was separating all of the contents into three piles – things that were useful, things that could be useful, and things that weren't worth her time. She jotted down a list of things from the useful pile in the back of her journal. She already had a full page of useful items from the kitchen and it didn't include just food. There were plenty of things they could use as weapons from the kitchen as well as other useful items like bottles and jugs to carry water. So far in the girl's room, she had found some clothes she could probably squeeze into and a few other items worth keeping.

Feeling satisfied with what she had found in the bureau, Beth moved on to the closet. She began to pull things down from the rack above the hanging clothes.

"Thought you were gonna rest that foot," Daryl said from the doorway.

Beth turned around, having no idea that had been standing there. He couldn't help but noticed she was still in the same tank top and shorts that she had slept in.

"I am."

"Doesn't look like it," Daryl said, unable to keep his eyes off of her.

"You don't need to worry about me," Beth replied with a smile. "What have you been doing all day?"

"Worked on boarding up some more of the house. And I got the clothes from the line. They're dry."

Beth saw that he had changed back into his regular clothes, including his black vest with the angel wings on the back. She had never been attracted to the bad boy look before, but there was something about seeing him back in that vest that made her head a little woozy. Daryl handed Beth her dry clothes that he had taken off the line.

"Thanks," she said.

"You really should sit down," he said.

"My ankle is fine. I've spent the last two hours sitting and sorting through the girl's bureau. And before that it was the kitchen. This house is well-stocked."

"Then I guess we got lucky findin' the place."

"I don't know if I'd call it lucky. If we were lucky, we'd still be at the prison."

They both settled into silence as Beth pulled a box down from the top shelf. It was heavier than she expected and it fell to the floor, startling them both.

Daryl raced towards her, hoping she wasn't hurt. She put up her hand, showing she was ok. They both looked down at the box. It was full of photographs. Some were black and white, some in color, some damaged, and some as fresh as if they had just been developed. Beth kneeled on the floor and picked up a stack of the pictures. She began to flip through them.

"They're all different," she said.

Daryl knelt down next to her. "What?"

"The pictures. They're all different people. Different families."

She showed him a few of the pictures. He took them from her and looked at the different faces smiling up at him. There were families on vacation, kids opening presents in front of a Christmas tree, a newborn baby. Beth flipped the photographs over and noticed that each one had been written on.

"What is it?" Daryl asked.

"Names of cities. Addresses. Whoever took these pictures, collected them from all over and wrote where they were found. It's like they were preserving these memories and these people that they didn't know. They were preserving the past."

"Like you do with your journal."

Beth shrugged. "I do that for me. They did this for others. It's…nice. Maybe there really are some good people left."

Daryl nodded. "Maybe. You hungry?"

She shrugged. "I want to finish up in here."

"Ok."

"I'll meet you down in the kitchen later?"

Daryl nodded. "Alright. Just make sure you rest."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mr. Dixon."

It was several hours later when Beth met Daryl in the kitchen. The sun had long since set. Daryl had lit several tea light candles and placed them on the table to light the room. Beth had left food on the table from her inventory. Daryl couldn't help but notice she had also cleaned up the kitchen as best she could.

He had just opened the jar of jelly when Beth appeared in the doorway.

"Finished in the bedroom?" He asked.

She hobbled over to the table and sat down, placing her journal down with a pen on the table.

"What's that for?" Daryl asked.

"I'm gonna leave a thank you note," Beth said as she shuffled the pages until she got to a blank page in the journal.

Daryl eyed her, scooping another spoonful of jelly. No matter how much of it he ate, he never thought he'd get sick of the taste. It had been too long since he had something so sugary.

"Why?"

"For when they come back." Beth began to scrawl out the note. "If they come back," she added. "Even if they're not coming back, I still want to say thanks."

Daryl thought about what she was doing. It was such a Beth thing to do. Even in the worst of times, she still believed in kindness.

"Maybe you don't have to leave that," he said. She looked at him, but he immediately looked away. He went back to concentrating on the jelly. "Maybe we should stick around here for a while. If they come back, we'll just make it work. I mean, it may be nuts, but maybe we'll be alight."

"So you do think there are still good people around." She chuckled, concentrating on him. She didn't know quite when it had happened, but he had begun to change. Maybe it was the moment he placed her in that coffin so that she would be more comfortable or when he dragged buckets of water for her to take a bath or perhaps when they had woken up in each other's arms. Beth wasn't sure when it had happened, but she was enjoying it. "What changed your mind?"

"I don't know."

"What?"

He finally looked at her. "I dunno," he mumbled, barely making any sense at all.

"Don't mmhmm. What changed your mind?" His eyes met hers and suddenly she knew. It had been all of those moments because all of those moments had to do with her. She was changing him just as he was changing her. "Oh."

Daryl was about to say more when they both heard the rattling of the pots and pans outside and the barking of the one-eyed dog Daryl had seen two days before. Daryl took one last bite of jelly before putting the jar back on the table.

"I'm gonna give that mutt one more chance," he said as he lifted the jar of pig's feet from the table. He unscrewed the top and took out a piece of meat to entice the dog. Maybe trying to get a stray dog to come in wasn't the best idea, but he had seen how happy Beth had been about the dog earlier and he wanted to see that look on her face again.

Leaving Beth at the table, Daryl made his way out of the kitchen and to the front door. With the meat in one hand, he opened the door. He immediately realized his mistake. The walkers tried to push their way in. He held onto the door with all of his strength. He put his back against, leaning his weight on it to try to close the door before any walkers could get in. It was a losing battle.

"Beth! Beth!" He yelled, trying to alert her they were in danger and hoping she'd know enough to bring his crossbow. He couldn't believe he had left the kitchen without it. He had never gone anywhere without it.

She appeared in the hallway. He motioned for her to toss the crossbow to him while he held the walkers back. She threw it at him and he caught it.

"Run!" He yelled, knowing with her bad foot that she was need more than a head start. She was in no condition to face the walkers. "Run!"

When he couldn't hold on any longer and Beth was a safe enough distance away, Daryl let the door go. He took off down the hallway after Beth. He turned only to shoot an arrow at the walkers as they staggered towards them. The arrow hit its target, sailing clean through a walker's brain.

Daryl continued to run after her. "Beth, climb through the window. Get your shit!"

"I'm not gonna leave you!" She cried. The promise they had made to each other lingered in the back of her mind. He had promised to leave her if it became necessary and she had promised to fight. She knew the best thing to do was to listen to him and run for the road, but that didn't stop her from feeling like she was abandoning him.

"Go out! Go up the road! I'll meet you there!" He spoke with such conviction that Beth finally knew it was the only thing she could do. She was going to have to leave him to deal with the walkers and hope for the best.

"Go!" He yelled one last time. Beth turned and ran for the nearest exit. The walkers continued to pursue him as Daryl raced through the house. He took a split second to shoot another arrow and it again hit its target. Even though he was a good shot, there were just too many of them. He would be bitten and ripped to pieces before he ever had the chance to reload.

With nowhere else to go, he descended the stairs to the basement. He shot the ones he could as they came down the stairs. Then he used whatever he had available to him. He grabbed the mortician's supplies, stabbing several with scissors, knives, and finally a needle. Using the gurney to push his way through, he was able to make his way back up the stairs without being bitten.

He ran out of the house as quickly as he could. His only thoughts were of Beth. Had she made it out of the house ok? Was she able to run with her foot being injured? How far had she gotten?

Daryl ran through the cemetery, bypassing a walker. As he came to the edge of the property, another walker stood in his way. He easily took it out with an angry blow to its head. Daryl took a few more steps and that's when he saw it. The black backpack Beth had taken from the house. It was on the ground, dropped haphazardly with the contents spilling out. Daryl's stomach tightened. Seeing the backpack was not a good sign. Had a stray walker gotten to her after all? The thought terrified him.

That was when he heard it. A car peeling out on the dirt road.

"Beth!" Daryl shouted as he began chasing after the car. He knew without a doubt she was in that car and he knew she wasn't the one driving. "Beth!" He ran after it, not caring that his lungs were screaming for air. "Beth!"

Author's Note: Please forgive me for changing up the kitchen scene a bit from the episode "Alone," but I need it to work with the story. As always, thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to leave me a review! Things are starting to get good!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Beth ran as fast as her ankle would allow. The black backpack she had grabbed on her way out, slapped against her back. She couldn't help but think of Daryl. Was he able to fight off the walkers and get out of the house? Was he still alive? She turned, looking back at the house, hoping to get a glimpse of him running towards her. He was nowhere to be seen. When she turned back around, she saw something flying towards her. She fell immediately, her world going black.

6 Days Later

144 hours. 8,640 minutes. That's how long she had been gone. Daryl had never been good at math, but he hadn't stopped counting from the moment she had disappeared.

The night she was taken, he had chased after the car until it was out of sight. He had run all night until the sun came up and his lungs were bursting, needing air. Even after the car disappeared, he had followed the tire tracks for as long as he could, but as the car turned onto a paved road, the tracks vanished. Daryl hadn't stopped, though. He had continued to run, blindly chasing the car that he knew had Beth.

After running through most of the next day, he had made camp in the woods, barely sleeping and not eating much of anything. That's how it went. He ran all day and tried to camp at night, but it was barely survival. It was as if sleeping and eating didn't matter. He had killed the walkers he had come across, but thankfully hadn't found more than one or two at a time. He had managed to mostly stay clear of any danger, but that didn't help. He almost wished danger would find him and end his misery.

On the sixth day, he continued to run, although he didn't quite know where he was going or what he was running to. She was gone and there was no one way to find her. The memory of that last night together, of him holding her in his arms, flooded back to him. She thought he had been sleeping when she had woken up and placed a light kiss on his arm, but he wasn't sleeping. He felt her lips pressed against his skin. He wondered what her lips would feel like pressed against his own lips. He couldn't get her out of his mind.

By midday, after running for most of the morning, Daryl felt his knees giving way and he slowed to a walk. But he knew he couldn't stop. He started again into a jog, but it only lasted a few moments until his body protested. He stopped altogether, hunching over and resting his hands on his knees. After taking a breath, he began to walk. Minutes later, tired and weary, and drenched in sweat, Daryl stopped completely. He looked around. He was completely alone.

When his body couldn't take it any longer, he dropped his crossbow, letting it fall to the ground. His legs gave way and he lowered himself to the ground, breathing heavily. He had failed her. He knew that. She was gone and he had failed to find her. He felt the tears coming. He never cried, but at that moment he desperately wanted to.

He sat in the middle of the road, just letting time pass him by. He knew he should seek shelter. He was too vulnerable sitting in the middle of the road, but he didn't move. He didn't care what happened to him. She was gone. He was alone.

After a few minutes, he heard a noise from the distance. It was footsteps. He realized he wasn't alone anymore, but he didn't even move. He could tell they weren't walker footsteps just from the sound, but that didn't mean he was safe. He had to admit he would probably have preferred a walker. The footsteps grew louder, but Daryl didn't even bother to look up. Finally, he saw the boots belonging to a man standing just feet in front of him.

"Well, lookie here," the man said.

Daryl listened as five other distinct footsteps surrounded him. He still didn't move. He felt as if he had no reason to live anymore, but to give up would mean betraying the promise he and Beth had made to each other.

The stranger took a step closer to Daryl and he finally decided to react. Daryl swung out, making contact with the man's face. He grabbed his crossbow and leapt to his feet, pointing the arrows at the stranger. The other men reacted immediately, all training their weapons on Daryl.

Daryl stood over the stranger, pointing his crossbow down at him. He knew he would be dead within seconds by the hands of the other men, but that didn't stop him. He wanted revenge for whoever took Beth and the man on the ground seemed like just the right person to take it out on.

"Damn it, hold up!" The man yelled.

"I'm claiming the vest," another man said from behind Daryl. "I like them wings."

"Hold up," the man on the ground stated. Daryl knew immediately he was the man in charge. He wiped at the blood on his nose and laughed. Daryl continued to stare at him, pointing his weapon straight at his head.

"A bow man," the man observed as he got to his feet. "I respect that. See a man with a rifle, he could have been some kind of photographer or soccer coach back in the day, but a bowman's a bowman through and through. What you got there? 150 pound draw weight? I'll be donkey licked if that don't fire at least three hundred feet per second. I've been looking for a weapon like that. Course I'd want one with a bit more ammo."

"Get yourself in some trouble, partner?" The man asked from behind him.

"You pull that trigger, these boys are gonna drop you several times over. That what you want? Come on, why be stupid? Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people?"

Daryl knew there was no way good way out of the situation. He was stuck. Either shoot and be killed or lower his weapon and hope for the best.

"Name's Joe," the man said.

Making his choice, Daryl lowered his weapon. "Daryl," he stated.

The other men lowered their weapons. He looked around, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He knew instinctually that the men were no good, but he also knew no one could survive alone.

"Welcome to the group, Daryl," Joe said. "Let's go."

They started walking off. Daryl stood for a moment, looking back down the road where he thought the car might have gone. He shook his head.

"Forgive me, Beth," he whispered before he followed the group down the road.

Daryl was taking his time. Making sure his aim was correct. He was starving, having not eaten any real food aside from a few berries in days. He had been able to ignore his hunger as his thoughts were mostly occupied by Beth. He had thought of her the whole night. He had tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. Not only did he not feel completely comfortable with the group who had found him, but he also couldn't get her out of his mind. He wondered if she was lying somewhere hurt or if she had turned into a walker.

Tracking and hunting seemed to be the only thing that kept Daryl's mind from Beth at all. As he went to pull the trigger, an arrow sailed by him. Both of the arrows hit the rabbit at the same time. Daryl looked back and saw Len standing behind him.

"What the hell you doin'?" He asked.

"Catching me some breakfast."

"That's mine," Daryl stated, walking towards his kill.

"My arrow's the one that hit first. The cottontail belongs to me."

Daryl knelt down beside the fallen rabbit and pulled the arrows out of it.

"Been out here since before the sun came up."

Daryl threw the arrow that came from Len's bow to the ground. He picked up the rabbit by its feet.

"You see, the rules of the hunt don't mean jack out here. Now that rabbit you're holding is claimed, boy. Claimed whether you like it or not. So if I was you, I'd hand it over. Now. Before you get to wishin' you ain't ever got out of bed this morning." As Len spoke, Daryl walked towards him, keeping hold of the rabbit. He was not about to back down.

"It' ain't yours."

"Y'know, I bet there's a bitch. Got you all messed up. Hm? Am I right?" Daryl glared at him, wanting to shout at him that he was wrong. He was being disrespectful to Beth and Daryl didn't like it. Deciding to choose his battles, though, Daryl began to walk away. "Got you walking around here like a dead man just lost himself a piece of tail. Must have been a good one." Daryl stopped. Len had crossed a line. "Tell me something, was it one of the little ones?" Daryl unhooked the clasp of his holster where he kept his knife. "Cause they don't last too long out here."

He turned, ready to strike with his knife.

"Easy fellas, easy," Joe said, pushing Daryl's arm away and coming between Daryl and Len. Len smiled and laughed like it was some joke. Daryl could have killed him. "Let's just put our weapons down. See if we can't figure out what's really the problem here, huh? You claim it?"

"Hell yeah."

"Well, there you go, that critter belongs to Len.

"So let's have it."

Daryl had no clue what either of the men were talking about, but he wasn't going to back down. The rabbit belonged to him.

"Looks like you may be wanting an explanation. See, going it alone that ain't an option nowadays. Still, it is survival of the fittest. That's a paradox right there. SO I laid out some rules of the road to keep things from going Darwin every couple hours. Keep our merry band together and stress free. All you gotta do is claim. That's how you mark your territory, your prey, your bed at night. One word. Claimed."

"I ain't claiming nothin'," Daryl protested.

"You're gonna teach him, right?" Len said. "Joe, rules say we gotta teach him."

"Now it wouldn't be fair to punish you for violating a rule you never even knew existed."

Len did not seem to take the news well that Daryl was missing punishment. He circled around, running his hand through his hair angrily.

"Ain't no rules no more," Daryl said, staring at Len.  
"Oh there are. You know that. That's why I didn't kill you for the crossbow."

Joe went to grab the rabbit from Daryl's hand. He held on to it, unsure of what was happening. He knew in his mind that there was more to his resistance than just the fact that he felt the rabbit belonged to him. He wanted Len to apologize for what he had said about Beth.

"Easy there, partner."

As Joe held one end of the rabbit and Daryl the other, Joe took his blade out and cut the rabbit clean in half. He threw the head at Len, who took it and stormed off.

"Claimed, that's all you gotta say. Ass end is still an end."

Joe walked away, leaving Daryl alone, thinking about Beth once again. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself picture her face for one more minute. Then, he tried to wipe it from his mind. If he was going to survive, he needed to focus.

By the time he made it back to the group, the men had already cleaned up their camp. They started walking through the woods with their weapons at the ready.

"Where we going?" Daryl asked, not really sure if anyone would have the answer.

"We got a place," Joe answered. "A safe house, we call it. We found a house a while back, boarded it up, secured it. It's got supplies and food."

"Why'd you leave?" Daryl questioned.

"We take off every few weeks. See what we can claim. Replenish supplies. But we always head back there. We've been out for two days gathering what we need. Time to go back. And we got a few other members of the group should be back there by now."

"A few others?"

"Didn't think we'd all travel together, did ya? Gotta split up. Best chance of survival and of finding the things we need."

"How far is this place?"

"About a day's walk."

Daryl sighed, knowing he had little choice in the matter. He knew he couldn't survived easily on his own

"Lead the way," Daryl said.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading. Please don't forget to review!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Daryl followed a safe distance behind as Joe and the group of men approached their safe house. It looked ordinary enough, but Daryl could see the modifications Joe had made to the house. All of the windows were not only boarded up, but had hand-made wooden spikes jutting out. Some of the spikes were covered in blood. The perimeter had a fence made of bits and pieces from different fences and barbed wire. There were empty cans strung up along the fence, which Daryl knew served as a noise warning if a walker got to close.

Daryl watched as Joe approached a specific piece of fence by the side of the house. He reached over the fence and pulled a lever. A small gate popped open. To any person who passed by, the gate wasn't visible. Daryl was impressed with their ingenuity.

As the Joe and the five other members of the group passed through the gate, Joe stopped to look back at Daryl. He was still standing on the other side of the fence.

"Something wrong?" Joe asked.

Daryl had been traveling with them for days. He knew they weren't the kind of people he wanted to associate himself with anymore. He knew they had rules that sometimes meant someone ended up dead. He had been waiting for the moment to leave them; to go off and start looking for Beth again. But somehow he knew it wasn't the moment. It wasn't easy to survive alone. He needed to wait for the opportune moment when he had more time to gather supplies and ready himself.

"No," Daryl answered as he followed them through the gate. "Nothing's wrong."

He entered the house behind Joe and the others. They all had their weapons out, ready for what may lie ahead. Even though the house looked secure from the outside, Daryl knew you could never be too careful with safety.

Joe instructed four of the men to look upstairs, while Daryl, Joe, and a man named Bud took the main floor. Making noise on purpose as they went through every room to draw out walkers, they made their way carefully through the house.

As Daryl went to move on to the next room, something caught his attention. He could see a small ray of light reflecting off a small object on the floor. Curiosity getting the better of him, he took a step closer. It was a small gold cross on the end of a chain. It was the same gold cross necklace he had seen Beth tuck inside her shirt a dozen times. Sometimes when he would find himself staring at her and she noticed, she would go from rubbing her thumb over the small cross to tucking it inside her shirt as if she was embarrassed that he saw her with it. He had never been a religious man, but he admired her faith. She had no reason to be embarrassed. But seeing it there, haphazardly dropped to the floor, made Daryl want to yell out. Sure, there were probably a thousand cross necklaces identical to the one Beth owned, but he knew that one belonged to her.

Suddenly the knowledge that Beth hadn't left him voluntarily washed over him. That had always been in the back of his mind. Had she gotten into the car without him on purpose? Had she meant to leave him? He liked to think that even if she was getting strong enough and brave enough to survive on her own that she wouldn't choose to be that way. He liked to think that she would still choose to be with him just as he would choose to be with her. For some reason, seeing the cross there on the ground told him that there was nothing voluntary about it.

As he stared at the small object, he felt his blood boil. He knew that Beth either was there or had been there and that was not a good thing.

Knowing he had to tread very carefully, Daryl took great care not to draw attention to himself. If he drew his bow and threatened Joe outright, he would be dead before he could even release an arrow. He had to stop and think for her sake as well as his. He analyzed the scene, more carefully than he had when he first arrived. Now he had reason to know every nook and cranny. The house was dirty as were most of the houses. It clearly was being lived in by a group of unwashed, filthy men. There was a stench that hung in the air. Standing in the living room, he could see clear through to the kitchen and what was once probably the dining room although there wasn't much left of the table and chairs. They had probably been used long before for firewood. There were stairs that most likely led up to the bedrooms where the other men had gone searching for walkers. The back door was boarded shut as were all of the widows, making the house dark even in the daylight. His eyes fell upon the cross once more as he realized it was in front of a door. A door, Daryl guessed, that led to the basement.

The men from upstairs came back down.

"All clear," one of them announced.

"Good," Joe replied. "You four go out and dig up what we have left."

One of the men scowled. "How come we always have to be the ones diggin'?" he asked angrily.

"Diggin' for what?" Daryl questioned, finally tearing his eyes away from the cross. He knew it wasn't going anywhere.

"Think we'd just leave our supplies and food out for anyone to take?" Joe replied. "Nope. We bury it every time we leave and we dig it up every time we come back. Stay's safe." He turned to look at the two men he had chosen to dig up whatever they had buried. "Now are you gonna argue or are you gonna do what I tell you?"

They all left without another word. Joe flopped down on the dusty couch.

"Bud, watch the door," he commanded.

Bud did as he was told without question. Daryl stood completely still, his eyes having focused back on the cross.

"Something on your mind?" Joe asked.

"Just lookin' 'round," Daryl answered. He looked back over at Joe. "How long you been using this place?"

"A while," Joe answered.

"How do you keep the walkers away?"

"I'm a good shot." He smirked. "There were a bunch of walkers taking over the place when we arrived."

"How'd you get them out?"

"Human bait. Sent one of the guys out there to lead 'em away."

"Did that work?"

"Haven't seen a walker in the house since. Of course, we haven't seen Tony either." Daryl didn't let the comment phase him. Joe was obviously a man who would do whatever was necessary to survive. "Plus now we got a pretty good perimeter. We worked hard to build that thing."

"Seen anyone else around?"

"You looking for someone?"

Daryl knew he shouldn't say too much. "I was with a few people. Walkers snuck up on us. Doubt they're alive."

"Well, forget about them. We're your people now. That is, if you do what I say. That a problem?"

Daryl shook his head. "Nope. I ain't got no problem."

"Good."

"Then you can take first watch with Bud while I take a nap. Wake me when the boys get back."

With that, Joe stood up and walked upstairs. Daryl watched him as he went. As soon as Joe was out of sight, he turned his attention back to Bud who still standing by the door with his gun in his hand. He glanced over at Daryl and then back out the window.

"So…what do know about…" Daryl began.

"We don't talk. We watch. We don't talk. You look out the back."

Daryl took another long hard look at the cross on the floor. He bent and scooped it up. He fingered the metal as he put it in his pocket. Instead of heading into the kitchen to look out the back door, Daryl went right for the basement door. He kept his feet light, trying to keep his movements absolutely silent. He turned the knob and the pushed the door slowly. It creaked.

Bud immediately turned around, his gun drawn, pointing straight at Daryl.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bud sneered.

"Just checkin' out the house. No tellin' where walkers could be hiding."

"We already checked the house. Now go keep watch out the back."

"What's down there?"

"Nothin'."

"Somethin' must be down there," Daryl prompted.

"I said leave it alone."

"Look, if I'm going to be in this group, you gotta tell me what's going on."

"Do you remember what I said about not talking? Or are you just stupid?"

"What? You got some walkers chained up or something?"

Bud lowered his gun. "Fine. You wanna know? That's Joe's new special pet. Some girl he found out on the road runnin' for her life. Joe sometimes needs a little comfort if you know what I mean. I'm surprised he's not down there right now after we've been out for a few days. Tried to tell him that all men need comfort, but Joe keeps all his girls to himself. If you're lucky, he sometimes let's us play with 'em a little."

Before he could finish the sentence, Daryl had grabbed his crossbow from his back and shot Bud through the head. Bud's gun dropped to the floor before his legs gave way and his body crumpled. He was dead before his head hit the floor. Daryl took a minute to listen for any sound above him. If Joe had heard, Daryl needed to be prepared to fight him off. Hearing nothing, Daryl immediately began his descent down the stairs, his crossbow at the ready.

The basement was pitch dark. He couldn't even see the stairs in front of him. Going slowly, Daryl gave his eyes time to adjust to the dark.

"Beth?" He called out quietly. Though Joe had assured him that all the walkers were gone, it was never a good idea to yell. He heard nothing in return. Daryl continued down the stairs, trying to make out the shapes and objects he could see in the darkness. There were pieces of furniture scattered all around, boxes piled up almost to the ceiling, an old furnace sitting unused. He looked around frantically, every once in a while tripping on something or running into cobwebs. He brushed them off as doubt began to pour in. Was he wrong? Did the necklace belong to someone else? Someone long since dead? Of course, even if it wasn't Beth down there, Bud made it clear that there was someone down there and Daryl was determined to find her.

As his eyes focused even better in the dark room, he saw the outline of a door. He approached it and felt around, looking for a handle. His hand fell on a lock. It was a simple combination lock like the ones you would use to chain a bike around a telephone pole.

"Beth?" Daryl whispered. There was no response. Looking around, Daryl spotted a small flashlight on the floor near the door. He picked it up, switched it on, and trained the beam of light on the lock. It shouldn't be too hard to break open if he had the right tools. Using the flashlight, he scanned the basement. He found a workbench of tools over in the corner. The tools were a mess, most of them sprawled all over the workbench. Trying to make as little noise as possible, Daryl sifted through the tools until he found what he was looking for. Bolt cutters. He grabbed the bolt cutters, popped the end of the small flashlight into his mouth, and quickly made his way back to the door and the lock. He placed the lock in between the jaws of the bolt cutters and pressed. The lock snapped. Daryl placed the bolt cutters aside on the floor, pulled the rest of the lock from the door, and swung the door open. He realized instantly he was looking into some sort of small room. He grabbed the flashlight from his mouth and scanned the room with it.

It was empty. Aside from a metal dog dish that didn't have any food or water in it and a leftover chew toy on the floor, there was nothing else there. Daryl realized the small room was probably used as a kennel for the owner's dog, but whoever the owner and the dog were, they were long since gone. Had Bud lied to him? Was there really no one in the basement?

Daryl took a step inside the room and that's when he saw her.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! For some reason, logistically this chapter was a nightmare to write, but I am finally happy with it and hope you enjoyed it. If you're liking my story (or even if you're not), please review! Those reviews really make my day and help me become a better writer!


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Just to warn everyone, this chapter contains adult content. Although it's not graphic, I just had to warn you.

**Chapter 9**

He saw her curled up on the floor in the furthest corner of the small cell. She was in the fetal position, her back facing him. The only reason he even knew it was her was because of her hair.

He was at her side in an instant. He didn't care about the potential danger. He knew if she had died, she could have already turned, but that didn't matter. He didn't care that she posed a potential threat to him. He knelt beside her, brushing her hair away from her face. He had to hold back a gasp when he saw her face. He had seen fights before. So many bloodied and bruised faces, but nothing prepared him for seeing her so bloodied and bruised. Her right eye was barely visible beyond the bruise, her nose looked broken, and her lip was cut open and bleeding.

"Beth," he whispered.

He tried to turn her body slowly to get a better look at her. As soon as he moved her even the slightest, she whimpered. She was in pain and it killed him to see her that way. He didn't know what to do. There was no telling how hurt she really was. She could have broken bones or internal bleeding. If he tried to move, he might cause her body more damage and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Then again, it wasn't as if he could call 911 and wait for two paramedics to come with a stretcher. Daryl placed his hands against her cheek.

"Beth? Come on, wake up."

She made no response. She was clearly still alive, but barely. He realized even if he did manage to pick her up without killing her or causing her agonizing pain, there was nowhere to go. Joe was right upstairs and the other men were due back from the run any minute. How far could he actually make it with her?

"Beth…" he tried again.

"No," she whimpered.

"Beth, come on. You gotta wake up for me."

"Please...no," she pleaded with him. Her eyes were still closed, her body still clenched around itself.

"It's me, Beth. It's Daryl. Just open your eyes. We gotta get out of here."

"Please…" The way she pleaded made his heart break. She was terrified and it killed him.

"I need you to open your eyes, Beth. Come on, baby. Open your eyes. Look at me. Please, Beth."

He could see her eyes begin to flutter underneath her eyelids. He stroked her hair, coaxing her to fully wake up. When she finally opened her eyes, only the left eye really opened. Her right eye was swollen shut.

"Daryl," she whispered.

"Yeah, it's me."

"How…?"

"I'm going to get you out of here. Where does it hurt?"

"I…" She gasped before her eyes closed again.

"No. You can't do that, Beth. You gotta stay with me. You gotta tell me where you're hurt so I can…so we can get out of here."

She didn't respond. Realizing he had no choice and was going to have to take his chances, Daryl positioned himself to pick her up. That's when he noticed something he had missed before. Her pants were gone. She wasn't wearing any bottoms except a dingy pair of underwear that seemed torn, as if they had been ripped off. He cursed under his breath. Although he knew what Bud had meant when he said Joe needed 'comfort,' seeing her in such a state of undress infuriated him. As he took off his vest to cover the lower half of her body with it, he heard the sounds of approaching footsteps. Daryl whipped his crossbow off his back, turned and crawled back to entrance of the kennel, and aimed it at whoever was coming.

"I see you found my pet," Joe said as he came down the steps and approached Daryl. He had a large flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other. Squatting with his back against the wall, Daryl sheltered himself behind the wall so he wasn't in the line of fire.

"She ain't yours."

"Oh yes she is. I claimed her."

"I am takin' her and we're walkin' out of here."

"I don't think so."

"I'm a good shot."

"So are they."

Daryl peaked his head around the doorway and saw the four men who had gone out to dig up the supplies come down the steps behind him. All of them had guns and they were all trained at Daryl. He immediately sheltered himself back inside the kennel again.

Although it pained him to say it because he wanted nothing more than to kill the men who had hurt Beth, he knew getting her out of there was a priority.  
"Let me take her and I'll let you live," Daryl said.

Joe laughed. Daryl heard Beth stir. She was trying to lift herself to a seated position.

"You're talkin' like a man who's got the upper hand when you clearly don't."

"I told you I'm a good shot," Daryl insisted.

"That little girl really mean so much to you that you're willin' to die for her? Can't imagine she'd be much use to you now. She's more like...zombie bait, don't you think?"

Daryl looked over at Beth. She had managed to sit up with her back against the wall. Daryl wasn't sure how aware she was of what was going on, but somehow he knew that she knew it was bad.

"She's stronger than you think," Daryl said.

"I believe that. Little bitch put up quite a fight." Daryl cringed while at the same time feeling some sense of pride. She hadn't just given up. She had gone what she had promised him she would do, she kept fighting even though it would have been easier not to. "She kept beggin' me and fightin', but I took that fight right out of her. Don't you worry 'bout that. She's not much of a fighter anymore."

"Just let us walk out of here and…"

Joe laughed. "You know, I get it."

"Get what?"

"You saw her first. Ain't too many fine pieces of ass left like that around and you got to her first. Finders keepers and all that. 'Course you clearly didn't know what to do with her when you found her. She bled like a slaughtered pig when I stuck it in her the first time."

"You son of a bitch!" Daryl yelled.

"You lost her, Daryl, and I claimed her. So she's mine now."

"She doesn't belong to anybody!" Beth yelled as loud as she could. She began to cough after exerting so much energy.

"Still feisty," Joe commented, chuckling. "Oh…I get. Why you didn't have your way with her before. Why you came after her. You have feelings for her Daryl?" Daryl didn't respond. "See, havin' feelings for someone in the world we live in just gets you dead faster. The way I see it, there's only two ways this can end. If you do have feelings for the girl, I'll have to kill you and then have my way with her until she dies. But, if you don't have feelings, you and I should be able to come to a gentleman's agreement."

Daryl didn't like the sound of whatever he had in mind, but he knew he and Beth were not in the position to negotiate.

"What sort of agreement?"

"Well, you come out of there and join me and my men. You got skill and if I'm not mistaken, you got the desire to live. That's two things hard to come by these days. We could use you."

"And her?" Daryl asked.

"I don't usually share my pets, but I'm willing to make an exception. You did, after all, find her first. And if you don't care about her and just want to…have your fun with her like I have, this should be a no brainer. Think carefully, Daryl. Your life depends on it."

Daryl glanced over at Beth. She was practically slumped over, blood dribbling down her chin. She met his eyes and nodded. She knew what he had to do; knew what he had to say.

"Fine," Daryl practically spat.

"So, we have a deal? You join my men?"

"Yes."

"I need to hear you say it, Daryl."

"I'll join you and your men," Daryl lied. He knew he had to buy them some time. If he could convince Joe he was with him, it would give him time to figure out how to get Beth out of there.

"Not that. I wanna hear you say you don't have feelings for her. I want her to hear it. I want her to know where her place is. As a whore."

Daryl kept his gaze on Beth. "I'm sorry," he mouthed, not actually making any sound.

He turned away from her. He couldn't bear to see the look on her face.

"I don't feel nothin' for her," Daryl said with gritted teeth.

"Then you'll have no problem showing her."

"What do you mean?"

"You want to share her? Well, here's your turn. Bring her out here. Knock her around a bit and show her who's boss. Show her how big a whore she is. I've always liked...watchin'."

Daryl cringed. "Yeah well, I ain't performin' for no one," Daryl said.

"Then I guess we're back at square one then and I'll just have to kill you both. Think I'll start with her. It'll be a shame to lose my pet, but I can always find another. I want to see the look on your face when the life drains from her eyes."

"Daryl," Beth whispered so quietly he barely heard her. He scooted closer to her, always keeping his crossbow at the ready. "Just find a way to get yourself out of here without me. I'll…"

"That ain't gonna happen," he declared.

"Daryl, you have to go. You can't save me. You…"

"We are getting here. Together."

"You two having a lover's quarrel or somethin'?" Joe interrupted. "Bring her out here and prove to me your loyalty."

"It's ok," she whispered.

He saw a tear fall down her cheek, muddying the blood that was already dried on her face. There was no way he was going to give up without fighting for her. He knew to do that, he was going to have to hurt her. He reminded herself that she was tough; tougher even than he could ever have imagined. She could take it. He just wondered if he could do what needed to be done.

"This ain't gonna be pretty, but I am going to get us both out of here. I'm going to have to pretend to…"

"I know."

"Beth, this is gonna…"

"Hurt? It's ok."

He sighed and pulled the vest he had protectively put over her lower half off of her. She looked away from him as he saw her naked, bruised legs. Daryl put the vest back on his body.

"Follow my lead," he said. He kissed her forehead. "I'm so sorry."

He helped her to her feet, trying to be as gentle as possible. She bit her lip, trying to hold back a sob. He slung his crossbow so it was securely around his back, but still within easy reach. With an arm wrapped around her waist, he began walking with her to the door of the kennel. He knew once they were visible to Joe and his men, helping her walk was not going to do the trick. When they came to the open doorway, he practically dragged her out of the kennel.

"Come on!" Daryl yelled, dropping her on the floor in front of the kennel.

Beth cried out in pain. Daryl felt his heart break yet again. She remained on the floor, immediately curling herself up again. Although it was painful to be in that position, it left less of her body exposed and was the best way to avoid being seriously injured.

"On with it then," Joe said.

Daryl towered over her. He swore under his breath and stepped on her left foot. She screamed. He knew it was her bad foot, but he chose it purposefully. If he injured her good foot there would be no chance of escape. Besides, he hadn't really stepped on it hard. He had known that even a little pressure would cause her pain and he just needed for it to look like he was hurting her.

Daryl nearly lost it when he saw Joe nodding with approval. He managed to control his anger and concentrate on putting on the act.

"She don't mean nothin' to me," Daryl said. "And I'll prove it."

He began to undo his belt buckle and leaned down next to Beth. As his fingers fumbled with his buckle, he dropped a small knife he always kept in his waistband next to Beth's hand. She grabbed it and immediately concealed it with her palm. Joe didn't notice. Instead, he grabbed a stool from nearby and sat down.

"Go back upstairs," he ordered his men. "This is a show for one."

He waved them off and they did as he said.

"You want a front row show, Joe? Well, you got one."

Daryl grabbed the collar of Beth's shirt and dragged her along the floor, closer to where Joe was sitting.

"Please, don't!" Beth cried as Daryl pinned her arms above her head, right by Joe's feet. He straddled her hips, practically sitting on her, but he purposefully kept his weight off of her. More importantly, he made sure that he was facing Joe. She struggled beneath him, not really trying to fight him off, but making Joe think she was. Daryl gave Beth a look and a slight nod. She jabbed the small knife into Joe's calf, right above his boot. He howled, falling off the stool. Daryl took his chance. He swung the crossbow from off his back, aimed it, and fired straight at Joe's head. He didn't miss.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Daryl didn't even bother to check if Joe was dead. He knew he was. He immediately climbed off of Beth and pulled his vest off his body. He quickly covered her legs with it again. He helped her sit up and looped his arm around her torso. She pressed her face against his chest and began to cry.

"It's ok," Daryl said, trying to calm her. He had never been good with emotions. Growing up, his father didn't allow emotions in their house. Even with other women, as soon as emotions came into the picture, Daryl always pushed them away, but this was different. She was different. He felt a tear well up in his eye. He tried to blink it away, but it rolled down his cheek and landed on the top of Beth's head.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled against her hair, letting her cry.

After a moment, Beth tried to collect herself. She knew they weren't free yet and nothing got accomplished when she was busy crying.

"I'm sorry," she said, sniffling. Daryl could feel her body still shaking.

"It's ok," he assured her.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "What do we do about the men upstairs?" She asked.

"I'll take care of 'em. Bunch of idiots. Won't even see it comin'."

"I don't...I don't know if I can walk."

Daryl looked down at her left leg. It was bent at the ankle in an awkward position.

"It's alright. I'm going to go upstairs and take care of them. Then I'm going to come back down for you and we're gettin' out of here together."

"Please don't leave me with him," Beth pleaded, grasping at Daryl's shirt.

"I shot him in the head, Beth. He ain't comin' back as a walker."

"That's not what…" She sniffled and wiped her tears away. She took another breath. Her voice shook as she spoke. "It's fine. I'll be fine."

Daryl realized that for the first time in a long time, Beth's fear wasn't about walkers at all. The man lying dead in front of her had terrorized her. He had kidnapped her, beat her, and done a whole lot worse. Daryl knew she would rather have faced a walker than a man like Joe any day.

"I won't leave you if you…"

"No. You're right. I won't be of any use upstairs. Go...take care of them and…."

She unattached herself from him and slid away from Joe's body. Daryl grabbed the knife that was sticking out of Joe's leg, wiped the blood off of it, and handed it to Beth.

"Just in case," he said. "I'll be right back."

"Please come back to me," she replied quietly.

"I promise."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

"I plan on keepin' this one."

With his crossbow in front of him, he headed for the stairs. He ascended them quietly, but quickly. He knew there were at least four men waiting for him. Where they were waiting and how heavily armed they might be was an unknown. As he made his way to the stop of the stairs, he stopped before the got to the doorway. He peeked through the door, glancing back and forth. He spotted one of the men sitting on the couch, his head back and his eyes closed. He could hear two more talking from what seemed like the kitchen. Taking just one step onto the hallway floor, Daryl aimed his crossbow and pulled the trigger. The arrow silently flew through the air and hit its target. The man didn't even move. Anyone passing him by would probably think he was just asleep aside from the arrow protruding from between his eyes.

Keeping his back against the wall, Daryl made his way as quietly as possible towards the kitchen. He stopped at the doorway, got low to the ground, and looked inside. Just as he expected, there were two of the men talking in the kitchen. One took a swig of something from a flask before passing it to the other man. Daryl noticed each of them had a gun strapped to their hips. They both laughed about something. Daryl wasn't listening, though. He was too busy concentrating on the best way to take both of them out without either of them even being able to get their gun out of their holster. As one of the men turned so his back was to Daryl, he knew he had his chance. He stood up, aimed his crossbow, pulled, reloaded, and did it all over again. Both men were dead on the floor before either one of them knew what happened.

Daryl finished looking through the main floor of the house, but didn't find the last man. He glanced up the stairs, wondering if he was up there. Before he started going up, he thought about Beth. She was down in the basement, hurt and in pain, stuck with the dead body of the man who tormented her. Was taking the time to find and kill the fourth man worth it or should he just get Beth and get the hell out of there? Sighing, Daryl turned and went back down the stairs. Beth was right where he had left her. Her eyes were wide open, staring at Joe's body. She was holding her knife straight out in front of her as if Joe would come back to life at any moment. Her hand was shaking.

Daryl approached her slowly. He didn't want to startle her. He could tell by the rise and fall of her chest, she was having trouble breathing.

"Are they dead?" She asked, deadpanned.

"Three of them."

"And the fourth?"

"Let's just get out of here."

Beth still hadn't lowered the knife or looked away from Joe's body. It was like she was hypnotized. Daryl knew she was in shock. He kneeled next to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Put the knife down, Beth," he instructed. She didn't move. "It's ok, baby. I'm here. Put the knife down."

She dropped the knife from her hand. It clattered against the cement floor. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. She told herself that she wouldn't cry. Not again. She was going to have to be strong.

"It's ok," Daryl assured her. "We're going to get out of here."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere. As long as it's away from him…away from here."

"How? I can't walk, Daryl. I can barely…breathe. The internal damage…"

"Don't. Don't do that."

"You should go. You know you'll have a better chance without me."

"You have survived the worst of it, Beth. Now we just gotta get out of here."

"Joe is right. I'm zombie bait. You gotta go."

"Stop!" Daryl yelled. "We did not come this far to give up now. You ain't a quitter, Beth. You're hurt and you're scared, but I ain't lettin' you give up."

Beth nodded. "You can't carry me that far, Daryl."

"I told you we're gonna…"

"There was a car," she interrupted. "I remember…I…I got…hit on the head with somethin' when I was runnin', but I remember they put me in a car."

"There's a garage attached to the house," Daryl said, remembering seeing it when he walked up to the house. "Maybe they keep it in there."

"Then let's go."

"We gotta check you out, Beth. Moving you could cause more damage."

"We can't stay here. I'm…I'm fine."

He could hear the pain in her voice and didn't believe her for a minute that she was fine, but he also knew she was right. They couldn't stay there.

"Alright."

Daryl glanced at her naked legs, covered only by his vest. He made his way over to the kennel and looked around.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

He looked back at her, not finding what he was looking for. He glanced at her legs. "I was lookin' for your…"

"They're gone," she answered. "My pants are gone. He said they only got in the way." Daryl clenched his fists. "It's ok," she whispered. He almost laughed at the thought that she was trying to assure and comfort him.

"No it ain't," he replied.

"Daryl…"

As he made his way back towards her, Daryl secured his crossbow to his back. He crouched down beside her. "You ready?"

She nodded. "I don't ever want to see his face again."

Daryl placed one arm around her waist and the other around her torso. He began to lift her. She gasped from the pain.

"I'm sorry," Daryl apologized.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw. She told herself she wasn't going to cry out no matter how much pain she was in. She threw her arms around Daryl's neck and allowed him to carry her up the stairs. Every move he made sent pain to a different part of her body, but she wouldn't show it. When he reached the top of the stairs, Daryl paused. He hadn't forgotten that the fourth man was still around somewhere. He glanced around the room they were about to enter and didn't see anyone. Daryl glanced down at Beth. She had hid her head buried in his shoulder. He knew she was trying to hide her pain.

Daryl carried her towards the garage door. He opened it and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the car sitting in the garage. Still being cautious, Daryl took a look around the garage to make sure it was safe. When he saw nothing to cause them danger, he approached the car.

"Beth, can you reach the handle?" He asked. She didn't respond. Daryl looked down at her and noticed her head had rolled to the side. "Damn it."

He laid her down on the floor as carefully as possible. He checked for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. It was very possible she was more injured than he realized. The conversation he and Beth had in the funeral room came back to him. Would he be able to do what needed to be done if he lost her? Daryl didn't want to think about it. He opened the back door of the car before picking her up again and carefully placing her in the car. As he closed the door, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Daryl reached for his crossbow.

"Don't even think about it," a voice said.

Daryl dropped his hand from his bow. He looked at Beth in the car. She was still passed out. That was probably a good thing.

"Just let us go," Daryl said.

"After you killed Joe? And all the others? I don't think so. Now turn around, nice and slow. And keep your hands where I can see 'em."

Daryl raised both his hands in the air and turned around slowly. He saw the fourth man he hadn't been able to find earlier, standing in the doorway to the garage, a gun in his hands trained on Daryl's chest.

"Look, Willy, just…" Daryl began.

"Shut up! I'm doin' the talkin' now!" Daryl could see beads of sweat forming on the Willy's brow. Although it was warm, Daryl knew the sweat was because he was nervous. Daryl just had to figure out how to get the upper hand.

"Alright," Daryl said. "What do you want?"

"I want to put a bullet through your head. And after I do that, I'm going to take that little whore and show her what happens when you disobey."

He cocked the gun and put his finger on the trigger. Daryl went through his options quickly in his head. Either he could try to get to his crossbow before the gun went off, try to tackle him and hope the gun didn't go off, or run even though there really wasn't anywhere to run to. The options weren't exactly in Daryl's favor. As he watched Willy pull the trigger, he heard a gun go off. Glass shattered and Willy crumbled. There was blood trailing from a bullet hole in his forehead.

Daryl whirled around. Beth was on her knees in the back seat of the car. She was holding a gun straight out in front of her. The back door window had been shot out. She had killed Willy with one shot. She was staring at his body as if she couldn't believe what she had done. Beth had killed dozens of walkers, but Daryl realized Willy was probably the first person she had ever killed.

Beth put the gun down carefully on the seat next to her and laid back down on the backseat, trying to calm her breathing. It seemed like it was getting more and more difficult to breathe by the minute.

Daryl opened the back door, lifted her head, sat down, and placed her head carefully on his lap. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face marked with pain. He listened to her shallow breath. "You ok?" Daryl asked.

"I couldn't let him shoot you," she answered.

"Where'd you get the gun?"

"On the floor."

"Beth…"

"Please let's just get out of here."

Daryl nodded. "Ok."

He carefully placed her head back on the seat. He hopped into the driver's side, glad to see the keys were in the ignition. He did not want to take the time to hotwire the car. Beth was hurt and she needed medical attention as soon as possible. All he wanted to do was to get her out of there and get her someplace safe.

Author's Note: I loved writing this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as well!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Daryl drove down the road, not going particularly fast. He knew going fast meant more noise and more noise meant more walkers would hear them. He glanced over his shoulder at Beth in the back seat. She had passed out almost as soon as he had pulled the car out of the garage and onto the road. He had made sure her legs were covered protectively with his vest. As he looked at her, he noticed a bruise beginning to form on her upper arm. It seemed like every time he looked at her, he could see more damage.

"Almost there," he whispered.

He applied a little more pressure to the gas. He nearly wept with relief when he saw the cemetery appear in front of him and the funeral home just beyond that. He knew the house had walkers he hadn't been able to kill, but it was the only place he could think to bring her. At least he knew there were medical supplies and food. He would just have to deal with the walkers first.

Daryl slowed as he approached the house. The front door was wide open as he had left it. That wasn't a good thing. That meant any number of walkers could be in there. Daryl grabbed his crossbow from the front seat and double checked to make sure his knife was securely at his hip. As he went to open the car door, he heard Beth moan.

"It's ok, Beth," he said.

She opened her eyes, taking a moment to focus on what was going on. She tried to sit up, but immediately collapsed back down again.

"Don't try to get up," Daryl instructed.

"Wh...where are we?"

"Back at the funeral home. I'm gonna clear the place of walkers then come back to get ya."

"No, Daryl, it's too dangerous."

"It's the only option, Beth."

"Let's just drive."

Daryl shook his head. He had thought about it. He had wanted to drive off as far as they could go, but the gas tank was only a quarter full and there was no telling what would be waiting for them if they ran out of gas. Besides, although he didn't want to say it out loud, he was still hoping that others from the prison had gotten out safely. He didn't want to go too far away.

"There are supplies here, Beth. Things we need. We gotta patch you up and get you better."

"I...I'm fine," she said weakly, trying to sit up again, but failing miserably.

"Just stay, Beth. Stay in the car. I'm gonna lock the doors. There's a knife right by your left hand and the gun is on the floor."

She felt around until she could feel the handle of the knife. She grabbed it, clutching it between her fingers.

"Daryl, this place could be overrun. You can't go in there alone."

"I'll be fine."

"Daryl, please…"

He knew she was scared. Not of just being alone in the car, but of losing him. If he didn't make it out of that house, she had no chance.

"I'll make it, Beth. I promise."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," she said.

He leaned over the front seat and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be back. Keys are in the ignition if you need to…"

"You'll be back," she repeated, interrupting him.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and got out of the car. He gave her one last look before approaching the house cautiously. As was customary, he stood outside the door and banged against the side of the house. His hope was that if there were any walkers inside the house, they would be attracted to the noise and would come out. That way, he'd be able to shoot them right in the doorway without even taking a step into the house.

Three walkers did just that. They went staggering through the front door. Daryl took the knife out of its sheath at his waist and took all three walkers down before they even saw him. He waited another minute for any other walkers to come out, but none did. Taking a deep breath, Daryl entered the house.

With his crossbow leading the way, he made his way from the hallway into the first room. He knew the walkers who had attacked him were locked in the basement. They weren't smart enough to figure out how to open the door so at least he didn't have to worry about them. What he was worried about were any other walkers who had wandered in. The first room was empty where he and Beth had spent their first night so Daryl made his way next into the room. It was the room with the dead body in it. The one the funeral director had obviously made up to look like an actual person and not a walker. There was a walker, standing in front of the coffin. If Daryl didn't know better, it almost looked like the walker was paying its respects to the dead walker in the coffin.

Daryl shot the walker from the doorway, the arrow going right through the back of her head. She crumpled to the ground and Daryl went to retrieve his arrow. He went through the rest of the rooms on that level. As he got closer to the basement stairs, he could hear the walkers from the basement. He knew there were only a few left. He had killed most of them. Even though there was no way they could open the door, he still grabbed a chair and propped it against the door handle. There was no way in hell he was going to let anything come up those stairs.

Even though he knew it was less likely to have walkers upstairs because of the staircase, Daryl did a sweep of the upstairs rooms. The bedrooms were exactly as he and Beth had left them. He made his way back down the stairs, making as much noise as possible. If there were any walkers left, he wanted them to hear him. He waited. Nothing happened. He took one last quick look around. It could never hurt to be too cautious.

Feeling confident that he had secured the place, he went back outside. Beth was standing outside the car, leaning on the hood for support. She was balancing on her one good foot, her knife in her hand. Daryl could see the blood dripping off of it. There was a dead walker on the ground at her feet. The gun was in her other hand, but she hadn't used it.

"Beth!" Daryl yelled, running towards her. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and forced her into a hug.

"I'm ok," she said.

He finally let her go. "I told you to stay in the car."

"I saw the walker headin' straight for the house. I didn't want you to be surprised if it got in and found you."

"You should have stayed in the car."

"I'm fine."

"You can barely stand."

Beth couldn't deny that. Her foot was throbbing, with every move she made her ribs were hurting, her head felt like it was about to explode, and then there was the fact that she wasn't really wearing any pants. Daryl's vest had slid off her and was lying on the floor of the backseat. Her tatty t-shirt and her ripped underwear that she had managed to tie on so that at least they stayed up was the only thing she had on to cover herself. Beth felt herself lost her confidence and her body began to crumble.

"I gottcha," Daryl said, catching her before she fell. He picked her up bridal style. She didn't protest. She simply let him take her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and allowed him to carry her inside and up the stairs. He went right into the girl's room and laid her on the bed. He immediately covered her up with the red blanket from the bed. He took the gun and knife from her hands and placed them on the bedside table next to the bed.

"Tell me what hurts," he said.

"Everything," she answered.

"Beth…"

"My foot. If it wasn't broken before, it is now."

Daryl cringed. Had it been his kick that had broken her foot? Was he the reason for her pain?

"Beth, I'm so sorry. If I…"

"Don't. You got me out of there. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead…or worse."

"I'll always come for you."

She managed to smile at him weakly, but even that hurt.

"My ribs...I think they're broken. It hurts to breathe."

"Broken bone could be pushin' on your lungs."

"You think my lung could be punctured?" She asked, looking up at him with her doe eyes.

"If it was, you wouldn't be breathin' anymore."

"There's a...a gash on my back. He broke a bottle and used it to…" She didn't finish. The memory hurt too much.

"I'm going to get some of the supplies from downstairs. I'll be right back."

Without giving her time to respond, he headed out the door. He closed it behind him, but didn't move. He needed a minute. He leaned against the door and sank down to his knees. How had this happened? How had he let it happen? She was hurt, physically and emotionally. The physical things would heal. He would do everything to patch her up and help her heal. But emotionally, emotionally, Daryl didn't know what the hell to do.

After another moment, Daryl took a deep breath, picked himself up, and went looking for the supplies he and Beth had stored in the kitchen. He grabbed the first aid kid, a jug of water, and a towel before going back up to the room. By the time he entered, she had fallen asleep. He knew she was exhausted and her injuries were only making it worse.

Letting her sleep, Daryl focused first on her foot. He felt around, poking and prodding her foot, hoping he wasn't causing her more pain. The good news was, he couldn't feel any protruding bones. That probably meant the foot was fractured. The only way to heal it would be time and keeping it still. Since putting it in a cast wasn't an option, Daryl looked around. He stood up and went over to the little girl's desk. After rummaging through a few drawers, he found two rulers. He grabbed a pair of scissors and one of the girls' T-Shirts from her closet. He cut the T-Shirt into strips. Then he placed each ruler on the sides of Beth's foot. He tied the strips of fabric tightly around her foot and the rulers, giving her as good of a splint as she was going to get.

Satisfied, Daryl began to look her over. He lifted her shirt slightly so he could see her ribs. They were badly bruised. She was most likely right. They were broken. He could also see a trail of dried blood coming from her back. He knew rolling her would cause her pain, but he had to see how bad the wound was.

He moved her a little, rolling her so she was more on her side. She groaned in her sleep, but didn't wake up. That was probably for the better. As he lifted her shirt further up, Daryl saw the cut she had told him about. There was a cut about four inches long running down the spine of her back. As he began to clean it, he realized it was jagged. Even if she hadn't told him, he knew it had come from a broken bottle. He grabbed a piece of white gauze and medical tape and bandaged it up the best he could. What she really needed was a hospital and proper medical supplies, but that sure as hell wasn't an option.

After finishing with that wound, Daryl rolled her back onto her back. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and continued to inspect her. Aside from other cuts and dozens of bruises that ranged from, she had no other major injuries. There was nothing else he could do.

He watched her sleeping. Her breathing was labored, her brow scrunched up with worry and pain. Even in her sleep she seemed to get no peace. Daryl knew there were things he should do. He should probably go around the house one more time to make sure it was safe. He should figure out a plan to get rid of the walkers in the basement because, even though they weren't an immediate threat, it was never a good idea to have them around. He should check on their food and water supply and think about going to the lake to get more water to boil. He should be thinking about where they could go on a quarter tank of gas. Instead of doing any of those things, though, he sat and watched her. He couldn't help it. He never wanted to take his eyes off of her again.

Daryl laid back on the bed, leaving space between them. He wanted desperately to hold her, but he didn't want to cause her pain. He rolled over on his side so he was facing her. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. As he did so, she scooted just a little closer to him. He wondered if she was awake, but her breath was still ragged and slow and he could tell she was still sleeping. It was as if she could sense him next to her, however, as she reached an arm out. Daryl closed the gap, placing his arm lightly over his hip. Her head found his right arm and she rested her head on his forearm. She sighed and Daryl could see the lines starting to disappear on her forehead. The idea that he could make her feel less pain comforted him. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall asleep.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I loved writing this chapter. Please don't forget to review…they really do make me happy!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The next morning, Daryl felt her move beside him. He opened his eyes and saw her trying to stretch out. He realized they hadn't moved all night and Daryl could only guess at how sore she must have been. Beth attempted to roll onto her back causing pain in almost every part of her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed a cry. She did not want him to know how much pain she was in.

"Beth…" he began.

"I'm fine," she whispered. Daryl knew it was the furthest thing from the truth.

"It's ok," Daryl soothed, sitting up beside her. "You don't have to hide it from me."

She kept her eyes closed, biting her lip to keep from shouting out. She laid still, letting the pain subside to a dull ache. She tried to take deep, long breaths, but she couldn't. Her lungs refused to fill with the air she desperately needed. She started to cough. The hacking cough made her insides hurt. She rolled onto her side, trying to get in a better position to breathe. Daryl didn't know what to do; how he should act. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he began to rub her back slowly, being careful to avoid the cut he had dressed before.

She gasped at his touch, able to feel his warm hand through her thin shirt. She knew he was trying to do the right thing. He was trying to soothe her, but it had the opposite effect. It all came back to her. The darkness of the kennel. The sound of Joe's voice. The feeling of his hands on her back, on her stomach, on her legs, face, everywhere. The smell of his breath. The disgust of having him all over her, inside of her, it was too much to bear.

"No!" She shouted, pushing away from him. She tried to scramble off the bed, but her body protested. Daryl immediately took his hands off of her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She curled herself into the tightest ball possible as far away from him as possible, ignoring the pain.

"Please…" she begged although she wasn't sure what she was begging for. Please leave me alone? Please don't leave me? Please take the pain and the memories away? Please just hold me?

"What can I do?"

"Just…give me a minute. Please."

"Ok."

Daryl stood up. He watched her as her body began to shake with convulsions. She made no noise, but she couldn't stop the physical reaction to the pain and emotions she was feeling. Daryl wanted to wrap his arms around her and let her cry on his shoulder like she had the night before, but he knew she needed to work through her emotions on her own and he had to let her.

Daryl backed out of the room, not taking his eyes off of her until he reached the hallway. He left the door open and backed up against the opposite wall so that he could still see her. He slid down the wall, bending his knees and stopping in a squatting position. He hated seeing her in so much pain. He wished there were someone else there; a woman maybe. Maybe a woman would be able to help her. Maggie or Carol or even Michonne. He felt useless.

He watched her and listened as she tried to control her cries. After a few minutes, she had quieted down and her body had stopped shaking and had started to relax. Daryl wondered if maybe she had fallen asleep again.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Daryl barely heard her and took it as a sign that she was ready to have him return. He made his way back into the room. As he approached the bed, she began to roll over towards him. As she moved, he could see the blood stain on her back had fresh blood on it. With all of her moving, her wound had opened up more and was still bleeding.

"You don't gotta be sorry," he responded. He gathered the medical supplies he had used the night before and put them on the bed

"I just can't seem to…forget."

"And you don't gotta explain." He paused. "Unless you…want to…talk about it."

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about it. All she wanted to do was forget.

"Looks like that cut on your back opened up. I wanna check it out when you feel like you can sit up. I dressed it last night, but it could probably use a fresh look."

Beth nodded. She pushed herself up, cringing as she moved. She turned and dangled her legs over the side of the bed so Daryl had access to her back. She attempted to lift the back of her shirt up, but couldn't move her arms without instant pain. She cried out.

"It's ok, I got it," Daryl said.

She tried to close off her mind. She tried to tell herself to be strong and to forget what happened to her, but she couldn't. It was as if everything that had happened to her was still happening.

He kneeled on the bed behind her. Gently, lifted the back of her shirt up and looked at the cut. The bandage he had put on the night before was soaked through with blood. The cut was deeper than he realized. He pulled the bandage off, knowing that peeling the gauze off her gaping wound would not feel good. She didn't even make a noise. He looked down at the medical supplies he had. It wasn't enough.

"Is it bad?" She asked, trying to get her mind off the image of Joe's face.

"Thought I could just bandage it, but…it's gotta get sewn up, Beth. It's too deep. I gotta find a needle and thread."

She shook her head. "No."

"I know it's gonna hurt, but it's the only way. Otherwise it's gonna keep bleedin'. I gotta…" She shook her head again. She could still see the images in her mind and she couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't take the feeling or the smell. "Beth…"

"It's not the pain," Beth practically shouted, forcing her eyes open.

Daryl was taken aback by her outburst. "I don't understand."

Beth knew he was only trying to help. He was trying to take care of her, but she knew he would never understand. He would never know what it was like to have something taken from you that you can never get back.

She turned to look at him. "I'm sorry. I know you're trying to help. I just…" She stopped, unsure of how to explain herself.

"Just what, Beth?"

"I...I just...I need...I need to feel...clean."

Daryl cursed himself. He should have thought of trying to clean her up the night before while was asleep. He at least should have gotten the dried blood off her face.

"I'll get you a washcloth and…"

"That's not…it's not the blood or the dirt. It's...him. I can still...feel him on me, Daryl. I can still...smell him. I can still...taste him."

Daryl felt that familiar feeling of anger pass through him. He knew Joe was dead. He knew there was nothing he could do about what happened to her, but that didn't stop him from getting angry. He had hurt her on Daryl's watch.

"I'll go down to the lake. Get you some water. You can take a bath."

Beth shook her head. She hadn't realized what getting clean was going to cost her and him.

"No. I can't ask you to do that. It's too dangerous. You haven't had time to properly scout the place. I'm fine...I'll be fine. I just have to...forget about it and..."

"I'm gonna get you that water, Beth, but I gotta fix you up first. I'll just wrap it up for now, then we'll take care of it after your bath. Ok?"

She nodded. Daryl dressed her wound, being as gentle as possible. When he was done, he stood up and grabbed his crossbow. He glanced over, making sure Beth's knife was still on the bedside table where he had left it. The gun was there too.

"You don't need to go," she said in a near whisper. "I'll be fine."

"It'll only take a little while and I'll be careful."

"Daryl…"

"Beth, you need…"

"Please don't go," she begged quietly. She bowed her head so she couldn't see him. She concentrated instead on her fingers. She began to pick at her finger nails, something she hadn't done since she was a kid.

As much as she wanted to be clean, she also didn't want him to leave her. She had grown up so much in the past year. She had learned how to protect herself and how to kill walkers quickly and efficiently. But there she sat - afraid to be alone.

Daryl could see the fear in her eyes. It had taken only one moment and one man to take away her confidence. She was more vulnerable in that moment than she had ever been before; even when he had first met her on the farm.

Daryl reached over, placing two fingers under her chin. He applied a small amount of pressure, trying to get her to look at him. She finally did. There were tears welling in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"It's ok," he assured her. "It's ok to cry."

"No it isn't."

"Beth…"

"Please don't go. I know I'm being weak and I don't want to be, but…"

"You're not weak. You're scared. That's different. You've been through something terrible. It's ok to be scared. But you can't allow that fear to stop you or us from doin' what we gotta do, Beth. You're strong. If you weren't, you never would have made it through that. I need you to keep being strong for me, Beth. Can you do that?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Ok."

He helped her lay back down against the pillows. He grabbed an extra pillow and placed it under her bad foot, propping it up a little.

"You splinted my foot," she observed. "With rulers." She gave him a weak smile.

"It's all I could find," he said. "I broke my arm once while Merle and I were out huntin'. He ripped up the bottom of his shirt and got two sticks to splint my arm. If he hadn't done that, I don't think my arm ever woulda healed. It ain't as good as a cast, but it'll help."

"Thank you."

"Your knife's right there," Daryl said. Beth glanced over to the bedside table. "Just in case."

"Are you sure you're…"

"I'll be fine." He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be back soon."

He turned to leave.

"Daryl?"

He turned back around. "Yeah?"

"I left…a book in other bedroom. Could you…"

He smiled. "Harry Potter number three? Thought those books were for twelve year olds."

"It'll help pass the time while you're gone."

"I got somethin' better."

Daryl walked over to his bag and pulled out a book. He threw it on the bed. Beth picked it up.

"Number two?" She asked. "How did you…where did you?"

"Found it in someone's house," Daryl answered. "Picked it up for you to give to you when I found you again. Thought you might want to read 'em in order."

"Thank you."

"I'll be back," he said before he left the room.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Over an hour later, Daryl was filling the bathtub with the water he had just retrieved and boiled. He hadn't had any trouble with walkers getting back and forth from the lake, for which he was grateful. They didn't need any more trouble.

When he had returned to the house, the first thing Daryl had done was check on Beth. She was still on the bed where he had left her, the Harry Potter book lying open on her chest. Her eyes were closed. She had fallen asleep. Daryl let her sleep as he boiled the water in the kitchen and lugged it up the stairs to the bathroom. He didn't stop until the tub was halfway full. He left two buckets next to the tub for her to rinse off. He grabbed a face cloth and hung it on the edge of the tub and then took two full-size towels and placed them within reach of the tub so she would have them when she'd need them.

When he was sure everything in the bathroom was ready, Daryl made his way into the bedroom. Beth was still asleep. He stood next to the bed, watching her sleep. He knew she needed her rest, but he also knew the water in the tub wouldn't stay warm for long and she deserved a hot bath. Making the decision to wake her, Daryl slowly ran his finger down her arm.

"Beth," he whispered.

He could see her eyes begin to flutter beneath her eyelids. When she finally opened them, she was staring straight into his eyes.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi yourself. Didn't wanna wake you, but I got the tub ready."

"Did you run into any trouble outside? Any walkers?"

He shook his head. "Come on, I'll help you up."

Holding onto both of her hands, he pulled her slowly into a seated position. She winced. Daryl could hear her breathing change. When she was sitting up, her lungs were more constricted, and it was harder for her to breathe. She took a moment to adjust to sitting up. Daryl looked down at her ankle. She still had the rulers tied together around her leg.

"Guess those have to come off," Beth said, practically panting.

"I'll figure out something better for the long term while you're in the bath," he replied.

He untied the strips of fabric and placed them and the rulers on the bed. When she was ready, Beth nodded to him and Daryl took her in his arms. He carried her out of the room and across the hall into the bathroom. He sat her down on the edge of the tub. Beth dipped her hand in the water. It was still hot.

"Got a washcloth and towels for ya and there's plenty of soap left. I'll be in the bedroom. If you need me, just yell."

He turned to walk away.

"Daryl…" He turned back around. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I can't…I need your help."

He understood what she meant without her having to specifically ask. He knew it was difficult for her to ask for help. He knew she hated being helpless, but he was going to take care of her no matter what. He kneeled down in front of her. She looked at him as his fingers gripped the bottom hem of her shirt. With his eyes locked on hers, he lifted the shirt over her head. He knew she wasn't wearing anything underneath. No tanktop, no bra. She was completely topless in front of him, but he never took his eyes off of hers. He had wondered what she would look like naked. He had pictured it in his mind dozens of times. She was young, fresh, and beautiful. He wouldn't be much of a man if he hadn't thought about her in that way, but kneeling there in front of her had nothing to do with wanting her and everything to do with caring for her.

Daryl threw the shirt on the floor next to the tub. He helped her stand up and shimmied her out of her pants. She was completely naked. Daryl helped her step into the tub. The hot water felt good against her aching body.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Daryl pulled the elastic out of her hair and watched as the blonde locks fell. Her hair was snarled and covered in grime. He scooped up some of the water from the tub with a pot and began to rinse out her hair. When her hair was sufficiently wet, he took the men's shampoo and began to work it into her hair. As he massaged her scalp and ran his fingers through her hair, she closed her eyes. When he was done, he rinsed the shampoo out and reached for the washcloth. He dipped it in the water, squirted body soap on to it, and worked it into a lather. He began to wash her shoulders and back, being careful to avoid the bandage on her back. He watched the blood and dirt wash off of her. When he was done with her back, he handed her the washcloth. He knew from then on she would need her privacy. She had to be the one to wash away the demons that plagued her.

"I'll be in the other room," he said.

"Thank you," she said again.

He pulled a wet strand of hair away from her cheek, pushing it behind her ear, before he left the room. As soon as he was out of sight, he took a deep breath. What he had just done had probably been the most sensual thing he had ever done with a woman. Daryl had never been a romantic or the type of guy who cared much about spending time with a woman aside from in the bedroom. But Beth was different. He just had to keep reminding himself that she was off limits for a dozen different reasons.

Deciding to use his time wisely, Daryl began going through the drawers in the closet. He had already gone through them once before when they had stayed at the funeral home previously, but he wanted to see what he could find to help Beth. He would need to turn more clothes into rags and they would need to find her more things to wear; preferably things that were loose so the fabric didn't irritate her many cuts. He also needed to find something to use for her broken foot. Two rulers were not going to cut it.

While Daryl scavenged the room, Beth scrubbed furiously at her skin in the tub. The water she was sitting in had turned dingy, the facecloth more brown than white. She scrubbed every inch of her body she could reach over and over again. Her skin was turning bright red from the constant scrubbing, but she didn't care. She had to erase the memory of him and it was the only way she knew how.

Several times she nearly cried out for Daryl. The pain was becoming unbearable. It hurt to breathe, to move, to think. She just wanted it all to go away. She scrubbed the skin on her right thigh so much that she had scraped the skin away and had started to bleed. It was a spot where Joe had marked her, biting her skin so the imprint of his teeth would last.

After a few more minutes of scrubbing, she knew she would never be able to erase him. She would be in pain, she would always smell him, she would also be able to feel his lips against hers. She knew there was only one thing she could do to make all the pain go away. She had to replace her memories and there was only one person who could do that.

Beth let the tears fall freely from her eyes. The tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped into the water below. She didn't make a sound, not wanting to alert Daryl, but she let the tears go. Even though it was painful, she dragged her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and buried her face against her kneecaps.

She sat until she was calm enough to go through with the rest of her plan. She dumped the bucket of water Daryl left next to the tub over her head, rinsing her body. She stood, balancing on her good foot. With every muscle in her body aching, she stepped out of the tub. She grabbed one of the towels Daryl had put out and wrapped it around her small body.

With only one thing on her mind, Beth made her way from the bathroom to the bedroom. Daryl was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back towards her. He heard her walk in.

"Feelin' better?" He asked.

She didn't answer. Daryl turned around to look at her. As soon as his eyes made contact with hers, she dropped the towel. In shock that she was standing naked before him, it took Daryl a moment to react. He sprang off the bed, grabbing the comforter off the bed with him as he went. He held it up as a shield as he approached her, looking away.

"What the hell are you doin'?" He asked loudly.

"I want you," she answered. Her voice was quiet and shaky.

"Put your damn clothes on!"

"No."

"Beth…"

"I want you," she repeated, trying to sound more forceful and sure of herself.

He tried to wrap the comforter around her, but she wouldn't hold on to it. He kept his head down, trying to avert his eyes. He had to admit, it was difficult. Having her standing there in front of him was like a torturous test he wasn't sure he wanted to pass.

"Damn it, Beth!"

"I know I ain't much to look at. I know you can do better, but I'm the only one here. And I want you."

"You don't know what you want. You're confused and…"

"I'm not confused! Don't treat me like a child!"

"Beth, you're hurt and you've been through somethin' that…"

"I don't care about what I've been through!" She took a step towards him, trying to put her arms around him, but he backed away.

"Damn it, Beth, I ain't somethin' to check off your damn bucket list!" He shouted without really thinking about what he was saying. It was the only thing he could think of that would get her to stop. "It's like gettin' a drink, right? A checklist of things you wanna do before you die? Well, havin' sex..." He trailed off, realizing what he was saying. Just hours earlier she had gone through hell and he was throwing it in her face.

He immediately saw the hurt in her eyes. She finally took the comforter from him and wrapped it around her shoulders, covering herself. She turned to leave the room.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, trying to reach his hand out to her, but she shrugged it away. "I didn't mean..."

She turned around, a look of hatred in her eyes. "In case you forgot, I can already cross havin' sex off my bucket list!" She yelled. She could feel the tears forming, but she wouldn't cry. Crying never solved anything anymore.

"Beth, I…"

"He took care of that for me, don't you remember? He held me down and he pulled my Jeans down and he ripped my underwear off my body and he...he jammed it in me so hard I felt like I was bein' split in two! And I fought...I fought like hell because I kept thinkin' about you. I kept thinkin' that I promised you I would survive. So even though I wanted to die, even though I kept wishin' death would take me...I kept fighting. Except he liked the struggle, Daryl. The more I fought, the more he liked it! He forced me so many times I lost count! So I don't need you to help me cross sex off my bucket list!"

She stormed out of the room, leaving Daryl alone. He cursed out loud. He couldn't deny that her standing there in front of him without a stitch on was enticing. It hadn't been the first time he had wondered what it would be like to be with her. The old Daryl might have taken her up on her offer. After all, the old Daryl didn't care about anyone. But the new Daryl knew he was doing the right thing even if it hurt them both. He had to put his wants and desires aside and focus on her. He only hoped she would see it that way.

Author's Note: This was probably one of the first chapters I wrote in this story (I often write out of order). I hope you liked it. Please keep those reviews coming!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

A few hours later, Daryl was sitting on the piano bench in the viewing room where they had spent their first night, absentmindedly pressing a key here or there. He had never played the piano, or any other instrument, in his life, but he missed hearing the sound of the piano. He never knew how comforting it was to see Beth sitting on the piano bench, hearing the sounds and her voice. It didn't matter what she played or whether or not she knew he was listening, he just liked hearing it.

He hadn't spoken to or even seen Beth since the incident after her bath. He wondered if he should check on her, to make sure she was ok, but knew she needed her space. He only hoped things would smooth over when they did see each other again. It wouldn't work if the two of them were at each other's throats. They needed to work together to survive. And he was learning he needed her just as much as she needed him.

"You need some lessons," Beth said from the doorway.

Daryl whirled around on the bench. He hadn't heard her come down the stairs. That alone scared him. He was good at picking up even the quietest of noises. The fact that he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't hear her was not good. He was losing his touch.

He took a good look at her. She had changed into another of the man's shirts from the bedroom upstairs. The one she was wearing was grey and had the name of some university on it. She was wearing matching grey sweatpants that were clearly too big for her, but were at least comfortable. Her eye was just beginning to open up from being swollen shut. The other bruises he could see had begun to turn a horrible shade of blue and purple.

"I...I didn't hear you," Daryl stammered. "You should sit. Let me help…"

"I can do it," she insisted.

She limped to the piano bench and sat down. Daryl knew the pain she was in. He could see it in the way she walked and the way her lips turned to a grimace. But she didn't scream out, yell, or even cry. She was stronger than that. Daryl looked down at her foot. She had reattached the rulers and strips of T-shirt to her leg. For some reason, seeing it on her, made Daryl proud. He also saw a blood stain on the T-Shirt on her back. The bandage he had put on earlier in the day must have gotten wet in the bath and was clearly doing no good. He guessed she had taken off. He wished he had insisted he sew it up before she had taken her bath. It needed to be treated soon.

They sat silently for a few moments. Neither of them really knew what to say. Beth closed her eyes, placed her fingers on the piano, keys and began to play. It was a slow, sad song. By the time it was finished, her hands were trembling. She opened her eyes and stared at the keys.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for," Daryl replied.

"Of course I do."

"No, Beth. You…"

"I burst into your room and dropped my towel and basically demanded you have sex with me and then I...I yelled at you when you…told me the truth about the whole situation."

Daryl put his hand on her arm, but she pulled it away. She didn't want his pity.

"It's ok. I shouldn't have said what I said, Beth. I just didn't know what to do to get you to…stop. And I had to stop you, Beth. I had to…"

"I know." She closed her eyes. "I was in the bathtub, trying to forget. Trying to make myself feel…pure again. I kept washing and scrubbing and…I could still feel him. No matter how many times I washed…I could still remember him."

"Beth…"

"I'll never get a do-over, Daryl," she interrupted. She needed for him to understand what she was going through and why she did what she did. "My first time will always be with a man who forced me. It will always be painful and horrible and...I'll always wish it had happened differently, but that ain't gonna happen."

"I'm sorry, Beth. I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault." She sniffled. "I guess I thought if I could replace the memory of him...if I could replace it with something good, something better. If I could at least...be with someone I cared about and who cared about me even just a little. If I could be with someone who didn't hurt me, who wouldn't hurt me...I thought I could make it better. I thought that would make me forget, but it won't. Nothing can make me forget. I was stupid and I'm sorry."

"You ain't stupid, Beth."

"I know you see me as a little girl. I know you'd never want someone like me."

"That ain't true," he said quietly.

Beth looked him in the eye for the first time since she had seen him sitting at the piano from the doorway.

"What?"

"I said that ain't true." He paused, wondering if he should continue. How much was he really willing to admit out loud?

"Daryl…"

"You think you're the only one who wants to erase what happened? I can't imagine what you went through and...it...it hurts me just to think about it. I see it in my head too, Beth. I see you in that horrible place. I see Joe sittin' there, watchin' me…watchin' me hurt you. I want a do-over too, Beth. I want us to be sittin' back in that kitchen before the walkers came. I should never have opened that door without checkin' first for walkers. I should never have let you run off alone. I shouldn't…"

"Stop." She took his hand and squeezed it. "You can't do that, Daryl. Just like with what happened in the prison. That was not your fault and this was not your fault. You can't blame yourself."

"When he made me prove that I didn't have feelings for you. When he made me...hurt you...I'll never be able to forgive myself for that."

"Daryl, you did what you had to do to save us both. I don't hold that against you," she assured him. "You saved me."

"But not before I…hell, Beth, I'm probably the one who messed up your foot so bad. If I hadn't…"

She shook her head. "My foot will heal."

"What I said about my feelings…what he made me say...it wasn't true."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" She asked quietly. "That you…felt something?"

"Because you were a kid!"

"I'm not a kid!"

"Not anymore. But you were. And I ain't just talkin' about age. At the farm, you were someone who needed lookin' after. And at the prison you were good at taken care of Judith, but..."

"But that's it. That was my job. Everyone had their place and that was mine." She paused. "You never saw me as anything but her nanny. What do you think of me now?"

"Now you ain't a kid anymore. You've proven that more than once."

"So then what's stopping you from acting on those feelings now?"

"Hershel. I think of Hershel and I have to remind myself that you are Hershel's daughter and I would never do anything to disrespect that man."

"He ain't here anymore," Beth said sadly.

"I think that makes it worse. Just thinkin' about what he would think about...us."

"My father would be happy if I was happy."

"Even when...even if I could get past all that, Joe was right. Feelin' something for someone in this world we live in only gets you dead faster."

"So that means we're supposed to live our lives not carin'?"

"No."

"There's something else, isn't there?" Daryl nodded with a slight smirk on his face. "What?"

"Your daddy ever give you the sex talk, Beth?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Pregnancy, Beth. What the hell would we do if..." She laughed. "What's so funny?"

"I never thought a man like you would stop to think about that kind of consequence."

"Yeah, well it's somethin' you gotta think about." Daryl realized for the first time that with what Joe had done to her, it was very possible she was already pregnant. The thought angered and terrified him at the same time. He suddenly wondered if she had thought about it at all.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "I could already be pregnant, but I'm not."

"You can't know that for sure," Daryl replied quietly.

"I do know that. I can't have children, Daryl."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I had a hysterectomy."

"A what?"

"When I was thirteen, they found a cyst on my ovaries. It's rare for someone my age, but I had to have surgery…a full hysterectomy. You know, they took out all of the…necessary parts to have a baby. I can't get pregnant."

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I was torn up about it back then, but now it's for the better. No sense bringing another life in this world."

"I don't think that's true."

"I do. Look at what happened to Judith."

They were both silent.

"Just know that I have thought about," Daryl finally said. "About…us."

Beth smiled. "Good."

She bumped her shoulder against Daryl's playfully.

"The last thing I wanna do is hurt you, Beth."

"I know."

"And after what you've just been through…"

"I know. I was upstairs thinkin' about how...upset I'd be with myself if you...if I let you…I was bein' stupid. I wasn't thinkin' about the consequences. I don't want this to change us, Daryl."

"Me either."

"Just...promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"That someday...maybe...when the timings right and we're someplace safe and we're happy that maybe you'll show me what it means to be loved."

"By then you'll find some young guy who worships the ground you walk on and you'll fall madly in love like Glen and Maggie."

She laughed. "Well, if that doesn't happen. Promise me."

He nodded. "Ok. I promise."

"Good. Now I'm gonna show you how to play."

"What?"

"The piano. You want to just hit random keys or actually play a song?"

She took his hands and began carefully placing his fingers on the appropriate keys. He smiled as she leaned her head against his shoulder and began to play.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of the positive reviews from the last chapter. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter just as much!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

An hour later, Daryl had given full control of the piano to Beth. She had tried to teach him several short songs, but he had given up. He much preferred listening to her play. She was finishing up a classical song Daryl recognized, but couldn't place. His music education was clearly limited. He hoped Beth would have the opportunity to fix that.

"That was beautiful," Daryl complimented when she had finished.

She smiled. "It was my mother's favorite song. I haven't played it in…I can't remember the last time I played it."

Beth straightened out her back. The movement instantly caused her pain and Daryl knew it.

"We still gotta take care of that cut on your back," Daryl said.

Beth nodded. "I tried to tape it up, but it's not enough."

"I found a needle and thread when you were upstairs. It's gonna hurt, but you need to get stitched up."

"I know."

Daryl disappeared into the other room to get the needle and thread he had found. He placed the needle over a nearby candle flame, sterilizing it. He went back to where Beth was sitting and threaded the needle.

"You ever sewed anybody up before?" Beth asked.

"Merle. Lots of times. Even had to sew up my own leg once after we got in a fight."

"I guess I'm in good hands then."

Beth turned so her back was to him. She reached for the bottom of her shirt, but Daryl put his hand over hers, stopping her. He took the shirt and lifted it over her head, taking it off completely. He draped it in front of Beth. She took it, covering herself and tucking it under her armpits so her breasts were covered. Daryl concentrated on the wound. She had tried to apply gauze and tape to the cut, but it had done little good. It was still bleeding. He removed the tape and gauze she had placed there and got ready with the needle.

"Just do it," Beth said, sensing his hesitation.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He plunged the needle into her skin. She didn't make a sound. Daryl focused as much on what he was doing as making sure she was ok. He knew how painful it was to have a needle plunging in and out of your skin, but it had to be done. He stitched her up in silence, trying his best to be quick, but precise.

"Ok. I'm done. It's all over," Daryl said almost twenty minutes later when he had finished and tied off the thread. She hadn't made a sound the entire time. "You ok?"

She nodded. "I'm fine," she whispered.

Daryl knew she was lying. He could hear the pain in her voice, but he didn't say anything. Pretending to be strong was probably the only thing getting her through the pain. He helped her pull the shirt back over her head.

"You should go lie down. It's getting' late and you've been sittin' too long. I'll help you upstairs."

She nodded. "Harry Potter is callin' my name," she joked.

He smiled as he stood up and offered her his hand. She took it and he help pull her slowly to her feet. She held back a cry as she stood. Daryl wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her from falling. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain.

"I gotcha," he said. She put her hand on his chest, steadying herself. "Do you want me to carry you?" Normally he would have just scooped her up without asking her, but he didn't want to cause her any more pain.

"No," she gasped. "Just give me a minute."

He let her hang on him while she got her breath back. When she felt ready, she put her arm around his neck and let him bear some of her weight as they made their way to the stairs. With his help, she managed to hop up one step at a time slowly. By the time they got to the top, she was practically panting. Daryl led her into the bedroom and didn't let her go until she was perched on the edge of the bed.

"You ok?" He asked.

She nodded. "I will be."

She scooted back on the bed, sitting up against the headboard. Daryl helped maneuver her pillows until she was comfortable. He grabbed the Harry Potter book from the end of the bed and handed it to her.

"Need anything else?" He asked.

"A piece of chocolate cake? Advil?"

"Sorry, fresh out. I'm going to go look around, make sure it's safe. I'm gonna sleep downstairs. If you need somethin', yell."

Daryl turned to leave the room.

"Please don't go," she said.

"Beth, I gotta check out the place. We can't have another incident like what happened last time."

"Then come back. I don't want to sleep…alone. Please."

"Beth."

"Please…"

He nodded. "Ok."

As he made his way out of the room, Daryl knew he shouldn't be happy about the fact that she wanted him to be there with her, but he was happy. He had to remind himself that she had gone through a terrible trauma. He had to keep himself in check.

Daryl made his way through the house, checking every room. As he walked past the door leading to the basement, he could still hear the walkers below. He knew he would have to take care of them sooner or later, but it wasn't worth the risk alone. Instead, he grabbed a table from the hallway and dragged it in front of the door. Then, he went to the kitchen and took several glasses from the cabinets. He put the glasses on top of the table. He knew the walkers would never figure out how to get through the locked door, but the table and glasses made him feel even more secure. If they did somehow manage to get the door open, the sound of breaking glass would at least alert him and Beth that something was wrong.

Daryl finished checking the house, looking through every room. He stopped at every boarded up window, looking through the cracks to make sure there was no movement outside. He saw nothing. Finally satisfied, he made his way back to the room. Beth had moved from a seated position to lying down. Her eyes were closed. Her book was closed on the bedside table beside her.

Daryl took a pillow she wasn't using from the bed and threw it on the floor. He leaned his crossbow against the wall and laid down on the floor, placing his head on the floor. It wouldn't be as comfortable as the bed, but he wanted her to give her the space she needed.

"Come to bed," she mumbled sleepily.

"I thought you were already asleep," he replied.

"Why are you sleeping on the floor?"

"I'm fine down here."

"That didn't answer my question. Please come up here."

Daryl knew he was entering dangerous territory. After their talk he felt better about the incident that had happened earlier, but that didn't mean that he wasn't a man. Being that close to her was too tempting. But he also knew he would never deny her. If she asked him to jump, he would jump. Daryl sat up, grabbed the pillow from the floor, and climbed onto the bed. He lay down beside her, leaving space between them.

"Please hold me," she said.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me. Please."

Daryl slid closer to her, turning towards her on his side. He put one arm around her. She turned towards him, placing her head under his chin. Her nose tickled against his neck.

"You ok?" He asked.

"Perfect," she answered.

He could see her in the back of the kennel, her body crumpled in a ball. He kneeled down beside her. She wasn't breathing. He turned when he heard someone coming down the stairs. When he looked back at Beth, Joe was climbing on top of her. She was begging for him to stop. Daryl reached for his crossbow to shoot him, but it was no longer there. He went to tackle Joe, but he couldn't move. It was as if he were glued to the floor. He could hear her screaming and crying. She was calling out Daryl's name, begging him to help, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but watch in horror as Joe hurt her.

Daryl shot up in bed, his mind racing. He couldn't get the image of Beth on the floor with Joe out of his mind. He took slow, deep breaths. It was just a dream. A horrific nightmare.

"Please, don't!"

Daryl looked over at Beth. Her body was covered in sweat, her body tightened in the fetal position. Tears were streaming down her face. She was engulfed in what seemed like an even worse nightmare.

"Beth, wake up," Daryl commanded, shaking her shoulder lightly.

"No! No! Don't! Please!" She pleaded in her sleep, her body thrashing about wildly.

He shook her harder. "Open your eyes, Beth. You're safe."  
"Please…" she pleaded. The sound of her voice hit Daryl's heart like an arrow. She was reliving her horrific ordeal in her mind and it killed him. It was like he was seeing it all over again.

Daryl ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to wake her.

"Come on, Beth. You gotta wake up. You're safe. I promise you. I'm not gonna let him hurt you. Wake up."

He ran his fingers gently over her cheek, pushing her hair away from her face. She finally stopped moving. Her eyes popped open. She looked around frantically before finally concentrating on him. Tears continued to fall from her eyes as she fully came into consciousness.

"You're ok," he said. "You're safe."

Daryl pulled her onto his lap, cradling her like a child. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his shoulder. She allowed herself to cry. Daryl whispered to her over and over again that she was safe. He ran his hand through her hair and rubbed circles on her back, being careful to avoid her injury.

After a few moments, she sniffled and pulled away from him. She wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"You need to stop apologizin'."

"It was just so…real. He was so real."

"It was a nightmare, Beth. He ain't ever gonna hurt you again. I promise you that."

"It was horrible."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He rocked her back and forth slightly as she continued to calm down.

"I hate this. I hate being weak."  
"You ain't weak."

"What if we were in the middle of the woods and I was screamin' like that? We'd be dead."

"Well, we ain't in the middle of the woods and we've been through worse."

"You'd be better off without me."

"Don't say that. Don't you ever say that. It ain't true. We'll get through this, Beth. Together. Now come on, you gotta get some sleep."

"I'm afraid to close my eyes."

"Don't be afraid. I'm right here. I ain't goin' nowhere. I'll keep you safe. I promise."

Beth snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest. He kept his arms around her, not willing to let go. He waited until he was sure she was asleep before letting himself think about his own nightmare. She wasn't the only one who was haunted by what had happened. He knew it was his job, though, to make sure she never knew that. He had to be there for her no matter what the cost.

Author's Note: As always, thanks for reading and thank you to those of you who have taken the time to review. I really appreciate it!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

A week later, Daryl awoke to an unfamiliar feeling. Beth wasn't in his arms. Since they had the moment at the piano, there hadn't been a night where she hadn't fallen asleep wrapped in his arms in the main bedroom. Most mornings Daryl was up before she was; checking around the house to make sure it was still safe. So far they hadn't had any incidences. Walkers seemed to stay away from the place, for which they were both grateful. The only time Daryl ran into any walkers was when he was down by the lake getting water. Even then, there were only a few and he was able to quickly and easily get rid of them.

Daryl rolled over, expecting to maybe see Beth sitting by the window. Sometimes he would catch her looking out at the sunrise or sunset. When he didn't see her there, he trained his eyes on the closet, wondering if she was looking for something new to wear. She wasn't in the room.

Suddenly concerned, Daryl grabbed his crossbow from the floor beside him and got out of bed. He went across the hall to the bathroom, but it was empty. Panic began to set in. He knew Beth had been recovering slowly. She was able to walk around a little, her bruises had begun to heal, and her ribs didn't ache quite so much, but that didn't mean she was fully healed. Daryl feared she had tried to do something like go down the stairs or go outside on her own and things ended badly. He bounded down the stairs and finally spotted her. He couldn't explain the relief that flooded through him. She was safe. At least for now. Beth was crouched by the front door, looking out the window. Her view was blocked by two boards that crisscrossed the window, but she was clearly looking at something. She had the gun in one hand and her knife was in the other. Daryl immediately squatted low.

"What's going on?" He asked in a whisper. "Walkers?"

Beth didn't take her eyes off the window.

"No."

"People?"

She nodded. Daryl readied his crossbow.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because I didn't see them until I was walking by the door, heading back up the stairs. I happened to glance out the window and could see two figures in the distance. Wasn't sure if they were walkers or people or what." Daryl looked at the spot next to Beth and noticed a tray with two glasses of water, a jar of jelly, and a sleeve of crackers sitting there. She was bringing him breakfast. No one had ever brought Daryl breakfast before. "Once I realized they were living people, I didn't think I'd be able to make it up the stairs and back down fast enough. And it wasn't like I was about to start shouting for you."

"What are they doing?" Daryl asked.

"I don't know. They're far. Just past the gravestones, but they're walking this way."

"How many?"

"Two. Looks like a...a man and maybe a kid."

"They armed?"

"Can't tell, but who isn't armed these days? They're getting closer. What should we do?"

"I guess we gotta find out what kind of people they are."

"You mean just let them in?" Beth asked, finally looking at him.

"Well, it ain't like we're gonna roll out the welcome mat, but havin' more people with us can be a good thing."

"You're the one who said there aren't any good people left in this world. What if they…?"

"They won't. I ain't gonna let them hurt you, Beth, I promise. Havin' a kid with 'em might be a good sign."

Beth trained her eyes out the window once more. She wasn't thrilled with the idea of letting the two strangers into their home, but Daryl was right. There was safety in numbers. Before they did anything, they had to figure out what kind of people they were. As the two figures got closer, she began to see their features. "Oh!"

Beth scrambled to her feet, putting a little too much weight on her bad foot. She nearly fell, but Daryl caught her.

"Beth, what the hell?"

"It's them! It's Rick and Carl!"

Practically pushing Daryl away, Beth scrambled to her feet and began to open the front door. Daryl grabbed her arm and pulled her back, slamming the door.

"What are you doing? That's Rick and Carl! They're alive!"

"Except they don't know it's us. We go out there running towards us, they might shoot first and figure out it's us later. We gotta be careful."

Beth took a deep breath. "Ok. You're right."

Daryl opened the door slowly. With his crossbow by his side, he took a step out. He raised his hands, showing that he wasn't a threat. He knew he could shout out to them and they would probably hear him, but shouting was never a good idea. It might draw walkers from the nearby area and he didn't want that.

Daryl saw Rick and Carl slow their approach as they saw him. He noticed the guns in both their hands, outstretched in front of them. He hoped they would recognize him before they started using their weapons.

Within a few seconds, though, Rick and Carl began running towards him. Beth stepped out of the house. She wanted nothing more than to go run towards them, but she knew her foot wouldn't allow that. She had to save her running for when something was actually chasing her. It took Rick and Carl only a few minutes to reach them at the house.

"You're alive," Rick said, taking Daryl's hand and then clapping him on the back the way men do.

"So are you," Daryl observed.

Carl embraced Beth, squeezing her tightly. She let out a cry. Carl immediately let her go.

"Sorry," Carl said, realizing he had caused her pain.

"It's ok, just a little...sore," Beth replied, glancing over at Daryl. His eyes met hers and he gave her a small smile. Rick couldn't help but notice. Beth gave Rick a quick hug while Daryl rumpled Carl's hair.

"What happened to you, Beth?" Carl began.

"I can't believe you two are alive!" Beth interrupted, tearing her eyes away from Daryl. She had tears in her eyes as she spoke, but it wasn't from the pain. She was just happy to see them. "Do you know about anyone else? Maggie? Glen?"

Rick shook his head. "It's just been us for a while."

"Yeah, us too," Daryl said. He locked eyes with Beth, concerned for her health and her safety. They weren't safe out in the open. "Maybe we should continue with this reunion inside."

Rick nodded. They all went into the house. Daryl led them into the viewing room where he and Beth had spent their first night.

"It's just you two?" Carl asked.

Daryl nodded.

"How long you been here?" Rick asked. He couldn't help but notice how Daryl helped Beth into one of the chairs. He kept his hand protectively on her shoulder as he stood beside her. Rick found the gesture to be very telling. He looked Beth over from head to toe. She was clearly injured, but Rick couldn't tell how badly.

"Found it about two weeks back," Daryl answered. "It's got food, clothing, and there's a lake out back where we've been gettin' water."

"You been here since the prison?" Rick questioned.

"Spent a few days on the road before we found this place. And we had some...trouble a week or so ago, but we came back." He glanced down at Beth as he spoke. She didn't meet his eyes. He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Where have you been stayin'?"

"House to house," Rick answered. "We were hoping others got out."

"We thought everyone must be dead," Beth said quietly, thinking of Maggie. She reached up and put her hand on top of Daryl's.

"We can't be the only ones who got out. We just gotta find the others," Rick stated.

"What kind of trouble?" Carl asked.

"What?" Beth responded.

"You said you got into trouble. Walker trouble?" Carl said.

Beth and Daryl exchanged a look. He could see it on her face that she wasn't ready to just open up and talk about what had happened. He thought about leaning over to kiss her on the forehead, but he restrained himself. He wasn't quite ready to show Rick and Carl exactly what was going on between them, especially since Daryl wasn't quite sure what that was.

"Yeah," Daryl mumbled.

"Were you two plannin' on stayin' here for the long term?" Rick questioned.

"For a while," Daryl answered. "Beth...got some injuries. She's been recoverin' here. It's pretty safe. Not too many walkers around. We only had one incident and it's been good since then."

"Do you think we should be out lookin' for the others?" Beth asked.

"Not if you're hurt," Rick answered. "We can stay here for a while as long as it's safe. Then maybe we can talk about goin' to find the others."

"There's two bedrooms upstairs," Daryl explained. "Some clothes up there too. This place stayed pretty intact."

"People who were staying here come back at all?" Rick asked.

Daryl shook his head. "Haven't seen 'em."

"You hungry? We got some food," Beth offered.

"Starving," Carl answered.

"Then let's get you somethin' to eat," Beth said. "Come on."

Beth stood up, wincing. Rick couldn't help but notice the face she made. He also couldn't help but notice how Daryl immediately had his hand at her waist to steady her. Rick caught Daryl's eye, but he immediately looked away. Whatever was wrong, he clearly didn't want to talk about it.

"Some food sounds good," Rick agreed as they followed Beth out of the room.

Author's Note: Just want to remind everyone that this story doesn't follow the end of season 4 so there will be no Terminus and I have decided to include some characters and not include others based on who I think will best serve my story. Thanks for reading!


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